


Once Upon A Munch

by JinxedAmbitions



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Angst, BDSM, Bathing/Washing, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Dom Jaskier | Dandelion, Dom/sub, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Needs a Hug, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Restraints, Rimming, Safeword Use, Sensory Overload, Sex Swing, Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Switch Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Under-negotiated Kink, Voice Kink, gentle dom Jaskier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:08:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 108,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxedAmbitions/pseuds/JinxedAmbitions
Summary: Jaskier is a greeter at a local munch.  When a new guest shows up, he is immediately enthralled by the man.  However, the man is quiet and keeps to himself despite the whole point of the gathering being to socialize.  So, Jaskier takes it upon himself to make the man feel welcome.  His efforts do not go as smoothly as he would hope, and the man isn't even there for the munch but to see Yennefer, but that doesn't stop the man from leaving his number.Jaskier knows better than anyone that first looks can be deceiving, but can he really handle the White Wolf?  A man known to test the mettle of even the most experienced Doms?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 551
Kudos: 1298
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development, Sub!Geralt





	1. Welcome Welcome

Jaskier stood just inside the pub. Yennefer was behind the bar, making sure that inventory was being done correctly while people arrived. She may have donated her space to the weekly munch, but she didn’t let it slow down operations at the bar. Jaskier kept his distance, adjusting his vibrant teal jacquard waistcoat as he waited to greet their guests.

He and Yennefer didn’t really see eye to eye on most things. She was a brutal Domme, and he... _ wasn’t _ . Brutal, that is. He was a Dom, though few suspected it when they first met him...or even after that. He wasn’t sure if it was that he often broke out into chipper little tunes while he did absolutely anything or if it was the flamboyant attire he preferred. Maybe it was the fact that most people thought he was still about twenty and clueless about the whole scene.

Needless to say, people saw what they wanted to even if they were utterly wrong. Jaskier didn’t usually mind people mistaking him for a sub or anything else. He’d subbed enough over the decade he’d been in the scene to find enjoyment in it, but it wasn’t his preferred role to play. What he did mind was people who laughed or didn’t give him the time of day after he revealed he was a Dom. 

Yennefer was a laugher. She’d laughed for a solid minute after he’d turned her down, insisting he didn’t need her to punish him. She had insisted that he very much did need to be punished—which probably wasn’t far from the truth, just not by her and certainly not in a scene. He couldn’t really be upset with her for it. She laughed at him for just about everything, so it wasn’t so much that she couldn’t see him in the role and more that she found him a walking contradiction in every way. Despite that, they pretty much ran the bi-weekly munch together.

Jaskier sang softly to himself as he made sure that each of the high top tables they’d be using had enough chairs at it. There were also a few booths in the back of the bar for those that preferred a more intimate or quiet area to socialize. He looked at the little vases of fresh cut flowers and rearraged any that weren’t to his satisfaction. 

It was as Jaskier was perking up a spray of baby's breath and wildflowers that people began to filter in.

“Welcome! Good to see you, Borch. How’s the knee?” Jaskier greeted a regular attendee who was in his late sixties. He’d recently had a knee replacement, and he hadn’t been coming around as often. However, his partners were there every week, and Jaskier regularly wished he’d met Tea and Vea before they’d met Borch. 

“Knee’s doing fine. You’re looking as vibrant as ever,” Borch said, taking his usual table near the back of the bar. Tea followed him silently while Vea walked to the bar and picked up a pitcher of beer that Yennefer poured for them. 

“Someone has to bring a little life to this dreary place,” Jaskier said cheerfully.

“Careful what you wish for, Jaskier. I have half a mind to shoot you, stuff you, and hang you on the wall,” Yennefer called over.

“But then you wouldn’t get to hear my lovely singing voice on open mic nights…”

“You aren’t building a convincing case for your continued existence.”

“And who would greet our guests if I were not here?” he asked, sweeping his arm out at the empty room save for Borch’s table.

Yennefer gave him a look that said she could come up with several ideas. He just rolled his eyes before grinning at the small group that stepped inside.

“Good morning. Good to see everyone. Please take a seat. Don’t forget endless mimosas with any of the brunch options,” Jaskier said, shaking hands and patting shoulders as the group found a place to sit.

People began to steadily trickle in, and Jaskier did his best to greet each and every one of them despite most of them being regulars. They didn’t get a lot of newcomers to the events. Yennefer wasn’t big on open invitations on social media. Most newcomers came because of word of mouth or personal invite. 

Jaskier was in the middle of conversation with Yarpen, an adventurous sadist, when a man he’d never seen before entered the bar. 

The man had pure white hair that fell just below his shoulders and was partially tied back. He wore all black with heavy leather boots and a beat up leather jacket. His black jeans looked like they could hardly contain his muscled thighs, and strained around the various tears that looked like the man had come by honestly rather than purchased the jeans pre-torn. 

Jaskier felt his throat go dry, and his voice actually cracked as he tried to answer the question Yarpen had asked him. He just couldn’t remember what it was because he was pretty sure he was in love.

“Sorry, could you repeat that?” Jaskier asked because he wasn’t a complete heathen. He would finish this conversation like an adult, and then he would greet their new addition. Though that didn’t stop him from fussing with his waistcoat until he was perfectly put together.

“I said, have you had any luck finding a new partner since the Countess... _ you know _ …”

“Dumped me...again?” Jaskier sighed. 

Yarpen gave him a nod and a sympathetic look. Yarpen didn’t have a regular partner. He preferred to meet people in local play parties or dungeons, do a scene or two, then move on. Jaskier wished he could live so freely, but he had the misfortune of falling in love with each of his scene partners and not wishing to let them go. They always left though, or he left however reluctantly. 

“I’m sorry to say that no, I have not had the fortune of meeting my next muse,” jaskier said, glancing across the bar to track the newcomer as he found a quiet corner to sit in. 

Shy. Not what Jaskier was expecting from a man who walked in looking like he could beat up anyone who looked at him sideways.

“I’m sure you’ll find someone in no time. No shortage of subs looking for gentle Doms.” Yarpen patted him on the shoulder.

“Yes, of course,” Jaskier agreed distractedly. The only flaw in Yarpen’s thinking was that Jaskier had been through just about every sub in search of a gentle Dom in the whole city. 

“I’ll let you know if I meet anyone I think you’d enjoy.” Yarpen gave the same offer he did every week. It was sweet of him even if they ran in vastly different circles. Yarpen stuck more to pain play while Jaskier was more about pampering his subs and teasing the pleasure out of them. 

“You are too kind, my friend. I will catch up with you later,” Jaskier said, patting Yarpen on the back as he turned to study the white-haired man. Once again, Jaskier’s breath was stolen away as he watched the man sit quietly in the corner booth, sipping a beer that must have been courtesy of Borch. 

Had Borch greeted him? Jaskier felt something twist in his gut at the thought that someone else had been the friendly face welcoming this man to their munch. Still, he approached, grabbing a mimosa off one of the trays that was making its way around the bar.

Jaskier sauntered up with as much confidence as he held in a scene. This was his element, and no matter how hot this man was, Jaskier had a job to do.

“Welcome! Love this brooding in the corner thing. Very mysterious,” he started right away with his perpetually cheery tone. Bracing an arm against the back of the booth, he smiled brightly at the man who only just glanced up at his approach. “Are you new around here? New to the scene? What do you think of our humble little gathering?” 

The man didn’t answer right away, and he didn’t continue looking at Jaskier. Instead, he stared straight ahead and brought his beer to his lips, taking a long pull. Finally, he looked up at Jaskier again. 

“Everyone is...very animated.” The man said, sounding like it pained him.

“Perhaps you’d like me to introduce you around. Everyone’s friendly. I will be good to get you out of the corner,” Jaskier suggested.

“Don’t need a Dom or a Daddy to parade me around.”

“I—are you implying you think I’m a Dom or a Daddy?”

The man just raised his eyebrow as though to imply that his statement had been quite obvious.

“How did you—I mean, never mind. It wouldn’t be parading, simply introductions, so you can get to know people,” Jaskier recovered quickly, trying not to let his mind think about how that man might want a Dom for other things if not parading.

“I’d rather drink in peace.”

“Seems an odd preference when you come to a munch which kind of by definition is about socializing. But, no judgment if you’d prefer to brood alone.” Jaskier wouldn’t have said anything of the sort to most people who walked through the door, but this man seemed like he didn’t mind the blunt truth.

“Yen invited me.” The man’s tone never shifted.

“ _ Right _ , Yennefer.” Jaskier didn’t know how he hadn’t guessed that from the start. While Jaskier didn’t particularly like people guessing his preferences based on his outward appearance and personality, there was a certain look to the sorts of people that Yennefer hung around. But while there was no correlation between outward appearances and sexual preferences, there was definitely a correlation between people who looked like they might beat you up and friends of Yennefer. 

Jaskier sighed. This gorgeous man was a friend of Yennefer’s. He could just see them doing some fantastic scenes together, torturing a willing sub or doing some sensual temperature play. It almost made Jaskier want to reconsider subbing for Yennefer. Almost.

“Well, it is great to have a new face around here. I’m Jaskier, by the way.”

The man looked up at him with almost unnaturally golden-brown eyes, but he didn’t introduce himself. 

“So, Friend-o-Yen’s, I take it you’re not new to the scene, just the area,” Jaskier said when it became apparent that the man wasn’t actually going to introduce himself. He smoothly slid into the booth across from the man and took a sip of his mimosa as the man continued to sit quietly.

“Hmm,” was his only response.

“Well, welcome either way. I think you’ll find we’re a friendly bunch with varied interests.”

“Not looking for friends.” His voice was a deep rasp that did things to Jaskier. Things he hadn’t felt since long before the Countess rudely cast him aside...for the fourth and likely final time.

“Then what are you looking for?” Jaskier asked, tapping his fingers on the tabletop.

“Blessed silence.”

“Hmm. Is that what it takes to brood so magnificently?” Jaskier was not deterred by the man’s words. One simply did not come to a social gathering such as this if they wanted silence. That’s what one’s home or personal dungeon was for. So despite the man’s harsh words, he wasn’t looking for literal silence. As such, Jaskier took it for a deeper meaning which sent his pulse racing.

“Wait a moment. White hair. Big ol’ loner. Unforgettable eyes...you’re the White Wolf…” The man was a legendary switch known throughout the community, and not just on the local scale. More importantly, he was a sub known to test the mettle of even the most experienced Doms. The man’s submission was truly earned not given, or so they said. 

The man grunted, neither confirming nor denying the accusation. Rather, he pushed to his feet as though to leave.

“Please don’t go!” Jaskier cried, reaching out in a placating motion, but knocking over his own drink in the process. He ignored the spill.

The White Wolf paused, frowning down at him as though waiting for him to give a reason for him to stay.

Jaskier didn’t waste an opportunity like that. “Please. You pegged me for a Dom right away. No one’s ever done that before. So tell me, what tipped you off? Or was it just a lucky guess?”

The White Wolf continued to stare at him, half out of his seat, still weighing whether to stay. Finally, he retook his seat.

“You flap your hands out wide when you are making a point or get excited,” he said, touching the rim of his empty mug with careful fingers.

“Yes, I do.” Jaskier’s hands shook from nervous excitement. Sweat prickled at the back of his neck, and it suddenly felt ten degrees warmer inside the bar. The White Wolf had been watching him closely.

When the man didn’t say anything else, Jaskier frowned. “Wait, that’s it? That’s how you knew? That’s ridiculous,” Jaskier said, throwing his arms out wide before huffing and placing them on his hips.

“No. I heard your friend’s implication that you are a gentle Dom. Your flapping just drew my attention.”

Jaskier’s mouth fell open then he looked over to where he’d been standing with Yarpen, halfway across the bar. “You heard that?”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier’s cheeks were on fire. “I...Well, I’m not going to lie. I thought I was going to die a heartbroken man when my last sub left me.”

“Hmm.”

“I don’t suppose you know the feeling of getting your heart broken,” Jaskier said, tapping his fingers against the table.

The White Wolf smirked, glancing across the bar at Yennefer who was in the middle of a conversation with Tissaia, one of the most established Dommes in the area.

“Oh, I see. She can certainly have that effect on people.”

Geralt grunted, turning back to his mug and running his finger over the rim again.

“Do you...are you…” Jaskier started to ask, not really knowing where the sentence was going, but the man cut him off before he could get there.

“I’m here to see Yen,” the White Wolf said, picking up his mug and frowning at the lack of beer inside of it.

“Right, right. Of course. I just...I know Yennefer isn’t the gentle sort...have you ever…”

“Not interested.”

“I wasn’t implying we should…but  _ ouch _ . Right. Got it.” Jaskier sighed. He really hadn’t been implying anything. He just happened to believe people overlooked a more gentle approach to dominance, thinking it wasn’t hardcore enough or couldn’t produce the feeling they sought. 

Just because he hadn’t meant to imply it, didn’t mean the rejection didn’t hurt. He’d been rejected plenty of times. He’d just never been rejected by the White Wolf before. Perhaps he should have been more careful in his words, but the White Wolf was completely throwing him off his game. And then his mouth got away from him immediately after having that thought.

“Well, no worries. I will just continue living with this heartbreak. I have grown quite used to it now. How about we introduce you to some of the other guests? Perhaps you have some inspiring knowledge to share with our humble gathering.”

The man looked pained at the mention of mingling with others. Jaskier wanted to point out that perhaps it would have been better to come see Yennefer at a different time if he wasn’t looking to meet others.

“How long?”

“What was that?” Jaskier asked, eyes snapping back to the man’s face.

“How long have you been a Dom?”

“Oh. About seven years. I met Yennefer when I moved here and was looking into the scene. I talked her into doing these munches...well, I guess you could call them sloshes because Yennefer always opens the bar early for them. People don’t really get drunk though. Mimosas are just fun, you know?”

The White Wolf grunted noncommittally. 

“Do I get to ask you a question now?”

The man raised an eyebrow.

“That question certainly does not count,” Jaskier said indignantly. “Unless you have another question you’d like to ask...like for my phone number or my hand in marriage…I am kidding by the way.”

“Do you talk so much during a scene?”

Jaskier’s mouth flapped like that of a dying fish, but he pulled himself together. “Yes.”

The man nodded.

“What do you look for in a partner?” Jaskier asked. He wished he’d brought his notebook with him today. How was he to know that an incredible looking man with decades of experience in the scene would show up today? He was lucky he was wearing one of his nicer waistcoats because he’d almost showed up in sweatpants and a semi-clean t-shirt because laundry day was fast approaching—and by fast approaching, it had come and passed, and Jaskier probably should stop putting it off.

“Competence.”

“That’s it?”

“What more is there?”

“I don’t know, a pleasant demeanor, pleasing appearance, artistic vision to name a few,” Jaskier listed off. “Lovely singing voice, glowing references, impressive flexibility to name a few more. Should I go on? I could.”

The man frowned again. “None of those are necessary for a good scene.”

“But...do you not have to like the person you play with?”

“I don’t like most people.”

Jaskier didn’t know what to say. “Then what makes you take a partner or agree to a scene?”

“I’m in the mood, or they ask.” He looked over at the bar and made eye contact with Yennefer. Jaskier was expecting their time was coming to an end.

Yennefer made her way around the bar with a pitcher of beer. She paused at several tables to chat as she made her way over.

Someone stepped into the bar just then, and Jaskier saw an opening. Rather than allow Yennefer to humiliate him in front of this man, he’d actually do his job and greet the new guest.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have someone to greet. It was very nice meeting you, Mr. White Wolf.”

Before the man could say anything, Jaskier stood and hurried over to the newcomer. They were a regular, but he still liked to greet everyone as they arrived. He just enjoyed people, and munches were his chance to really socialize with people he had things in common with.

Jaskier wasn’t a coward. He just didn’t want to watch Yennefer dig her claws into a man he had more than a passing interest in. It was self-preservation not cowardice. That would have been leaving the munch completely which may have crossed his mind, but he didn’t submit to it.  _ Not  _ a coward.

The event really got underway at that point, and Jaskier’s attention was consumed by several of the regulars he’d gotten close with over the years. Several regaled him about their travels while others caught him up on their families. He shared about his most recent studies and the elective on sexual deviance throughout history he was teaching this semester. 

When he finally glanced back at the corner, the man was gone. Jaskier didn’t like the pit that the man’s absence created in his stomach. He tried not to focus on how he could have done a better job of introducing the White Wolf to others and making him feel welcome. Nothing about the man gave off the impression that he was looking to socialize despite his presence at a social event.

By the time the munch was coming to a close, Jaskier had come to terms with man’s disinterest. He’d even gotten the number of one of the newer subs who didn’t have a permanent Dom. She was lovely, but a little young for Jaskier’s tastes. Not that twenty-three was horrendously young, but he liked his subs experienced. Though he'd played with plenty of inexperienced ones over the years, it was just a preference not a hard rule. 

The man, however, had ticked every last one of his preferences and a few he had even realized he had. Jaskier didn’t want to think about that though.

Jaskier hummed to himself as he picked up the brochures and fliers for upcoming events that people had left behind. Yennefer may have provided the venue, but she refused to have her staff clean up after the munch. So, Jaskier always stayed and took care of the debris, so all the staff needed to do was clean the tables before the bar officially opened.

After cleaning away the majority of what was left behind, Jaskier propped himself up against the bar as Yennefer mixed them both a cocktail. 

“Good turnout today,” Jaskier said conversationally. He found that if he kept to safe topics, he could almost get through a conversation with Yennefer that didn’t devolve into petty insults. Though he wasn’t going to lie, he enjoyed their squabbles. Few people were as lively conversationalists as Yennefer was. 

“Borch is back on his feet. He always brings a crowd of doting admirers,” Yennefer said, placing a vibrant pink cocktail in front of him.

“Cosmopolitans? What’s the occasion?”

Yennefer smirked. “What makes you think we need an occasion to have cosmos?”

“Considering you usually just mixed together the remains of the mimosas and daiquiris into a god awful conglomeration of sugar, alcohol, and garnish, this seems like something momentous has occurred.” Jaskier swirled his drink around before taking a sip and savoring the flavor.

“Waste not, want not.”

“Should not still apply when we are in our thirties, and you own a bar.”

Yennefer laughed. It wasn’t her usual condescending chuckle but a full-bodied laugh. Something was definitely up.

Before Jaskier could make another comment, Yennefer pushed a napkin across the bar to him. 

“Thank you, but I already have a cocktail napkin. See? No pesky circles on the mahogany,” he said, pointing to the napkin beneath his drink. Yennefer had chewed him out on more than one occasion for being a heathen who didn’t put a napkin beneath his drink and destroyed the beautiful surface of her bar. She didn’t give any of the regular degenerates who frequented the bar the same speech, but that was neither here nor there.

“Turn it over.”

“Why’s that?” Jaskier carefully turned the napkin over, not knowing what to expect from the woman who took more than a little pleasure in teasing him constantly. He frowned as he read the back of the napkin.

There was a phone number on it and beneath the number it was signed. — _ Geralt _ . 

Jaskier turned the napkin this way and that, trying to figure out what it meant.

“What are you doing?” Yennefer asked as he continued to study the napkin.

“Who’s Geralt?”

Yennefer blinked at him like he was particularly dense. “Did you trip and hit your head while you were in the bathroom before?”

“No.”

“Geralt was the man in the corner who had you drooling a puddle onto my table,” she said, pointing at the booth the man had been sitting in alone.

“The White Wolf?”

“Ugh. Of course you would know him by that ridiculous nickname.”

“Is this a joke? Are you playing a very mean prank on me because I greeted him? I was  _ not  _ drooling by the way. I was fulfilling my official capacity as greeter.”

Yennefer made an indelicate sound.

“I wasn’t! And maybe you should have greeted him since he was your friend.”

Yennefer laughed again, but this time it had that familiar condescending edge to it. “ _ Friend _ . That is certainly one take on it, but that aside, no this isn’t a joke. He asked me to give it to you. I have no idea what he saw in you, but he asked me to give that to you before he left.”

“Why didn’t he give it to me himself?” Jaskier asked, still not willing to believe this was real. It would hurt too much when Yennefer pulled the rug out from beneath him if he believed it. It already hurt enough knowing it wasn’t real.

“He hates crowds, and socializing, and noise. He stopped in because he just got into town, and we usually have lunch or dinner when he gets to town. Didn’t realize I was already indisposed.  _ Not  _ that it’s any of your business.”

“Oh. So, he wasn’t lying about not coming to socialize. I just figured he didn’t want to talk to me in particular.” Jaskier cursed himself for admitting that out loud.

“I don’t think that Geralt wants to talk to anyone really. The man would be happy to live in silence for the rest of his days.”

“Right.”

“But, he clearly wouldn’t mind you doing other things to him...though I hope he realizes that comes with endless chatter. The Countess said you never shut up during a scene.”

Jaskier frowned. 

“Don’t make that face. It will give you wrinkles.”

Jaskier only frowned deeper. “I know you’re a fairly big deal in the community, but how did you meet the White Wolf...errr...Geralt?” Jaskier asked. He’d been dying to know since he’d figured out exactly who Geralt was.

“Met him at an orgy I hosted.” 

Jaskier shook his head, trying to wrap his brain around her half answer. “Right, of course. Why didn’t I just assume that you regularly host orgies, and Geralt regularly attends them.”

“I don’t know. You seem to lack imagination in that regard.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Why did he give me his number if he came to see you?”

“Why Jaskier, are you feeling like you can’t measure up?”

“Shouldn’t you be the one that’s worried, since he gave me his number instead of worshiping you for the duration of his stay?”

“I have nothing to worry about. I also have a schedule that doesn’t give me much time to devote to Geralt, and trust me, the man requires time. If you call him, I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I’ve never had any complaints…”

Yennefer snorted. Jaskier didn’t appreciate it.

“My penchant for talking aside.”

“Just call. He rarely gives out his number. Trust me. It took running into him at three different events before he gave me his number...though we weren’t wearing enough to have our phones on us the first two times.”

“I get it, Yennefer.”

“You’re so easy, Jaskier, and yet it never gets old.”

“I live for your amusement,” he said, finishing his drink and pocketing the napkin. “Until next time.” He bowed with a flourish.

“I’m sure I’ll be hearing from you before that when you have no idea how to handle Geralt.”

“Keep dreaming, Darling.” He fluttered his fingers in a wave as he walked out of the bar.

It was only with every ounce of his self control that Jaskier managed not to reach into his pocket for the napkin until he was inside his car and away from Yennefer’s prying eyes.

— _ Yennefer gave me this number. Please tell me she isn’t tugging my balls and this is actually Geralt’s number _ .— He typed the message hastily, unable to wait another minute.

He sat there staring at his phone, waiting for a response even though Geralt didn’t seem like the type to have his phone glued to his hand. Jaskier bit his lip, praying that this wasn’t a cruel trick, not that this was really Yennefer’s style. She was much more upfront about her deceit. 

Just as he was about to put his phone down and drive home, he saw the three little dots that told him that whoever the number belonged to was responding. Jaskier’s breath caught as he stared at the little dots.

… 


	2. Is That Bread in You Pants Or...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managing to keep to the arbitrary schedule I set, so woohoo. Also thank you everyone who left lovely comments. I'e been completely bogged down by school work and job work to respond, but I read them all and they were wonderful.

Geralt was sitting on Ciri’s bed moving one of her toy horses across the bedspread as Ciri dressed her doll in something completely inappropriate for equestrian activities. He didn’t correct her though. If one couldn’t ride a horse in platform boots and a faux leather mini skirt in one’s fantasy, where could one do it? 

“Do you think the red crop top or the blue sparkle top goes better?” Ciri asked seriously, holding up both tiny garments for his perusal.

“Blue. Matches Roach’s saddle blanket,” Geralt said, keeping his tone equally serious.

“You’re right!” Ciri immediately stripped the doll again, having new inspiration for the outfit which turned out to be even less practical.

Geralt continued to prance the horse around the bedspread.

When his phone vibrated on the bed beside him, it was Ciri who noticed it.

“You have a message,” she said, digging through the pile of doll clothes in search of the other high heel for her doll.

“Hmm. it can wait.”

“What if it’s mom? She gets cranky when you don’t answer,” Ciri said without even looking up.

Geralt sighed. Children were too perceptive, and she only seemed to get more perceptive as she grew.

“Fine.” Geralt placed the horse down by her doll clothes and made it look like the mare was eating the clothes before picking his phone up.

“Hey! Roach isn’t allowed to eat the dresses,” Ciri grumbled, picking the horse up and placing it in Geralt’s lap as he unlocked his phone.

The text was from an unknown number.

— _Yennefer gave me this number. Please tell me she isn’t tugging my balls and this is actually Geralt’s number_.— 

Geralt snorted.

“Was it mom?” Ciri asked, finally finished getting her doll ready.

“Not mom,” Geralt said, putting the phone down again.

He was surprised Jaskier had texted him so quickly. He was even more surprised that Yennefer had given him Geralt’s number. Geralt wasn’t sure why he asked her to. He wasn’t looking for a Dom or even a passing scene partner. He’d had custody of Ciri for a week while Yennefer had been away, and he’d planned to bring her back and help his brother move before he’d leave town again. There wasn’t exactly time in that plan to plan for and commit to a scene. 

Yet, something about the overly enthusiastic greeter had gotten under his skin. It may have been his persistence, but usually that would annoy Geralt. He thought perhaps it was the way he interacted with others. He’d seemed genuinely touched when the man promised to let him know if he met someone for him. And the man seemed to genuinely care about Jaskier’s heartbreak. They weren’t manufactured emotions. 

“You should answer them before we get started,” Ciri told him, handing over a second doll who wasn’t wearing any clothes.

Geralt frowned down at the naked doll, not sure what he was expected to do with it. “I have Roach. Why are you giving me Stacy?”

Ciri rolled her eyes. “Betsy can’t just talk to herself. Who’s going to give her dating advice?”

“Roach?”

Ciri sighed in exasperation, but she took the doll back. “Fine, but Roach better give good advice.”

Geralt huffed. “Roach gives the best advice.”

Geralt picked up his phone again as he’d been instructed.

— This is Geralt. In town a few days if interested —

Putting the phone down, Geralt picked up Roach again and pranced her over to Ciri’s doll Betsy who was wearing a sparkly blue leotard, leg warmers, and high heels. Roach showed great restraint by not making her first bit of advice to inform Betsy that her outfit was inappropriate for this situation or possibly any situation.

“You should go get Yen’s eye shadow, so her eyes can match her outfit,” Geralt suggested instead.

“Mom would kill you, and I’d become an orphan.” 

Geralt laughed, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of her head. Before he could say anything, his phone buzzed again.

Ciri pulled away, and gave him a dubious look. “Is that Uncle Lambert?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“No.”

“Do you have a new girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Is it for work?”

“No.”

“Then who is it? You never get texts. Just work calls.”

“Just someone.”

“Well, they are interrupting Betsy’s riding lesson.”

“I thought Betsy already knew how to ride.”

“She can still practice.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt ignored the text in favor of playing with his daughter, but Jaskier’s presence sat at the back of his mind. 

Once Ciri had grown tired of Roach’s world weary relationship advice, she decided it was time to watch a movie. Geralt checked his phone again as Ciri was sifting through the available titles on Netflix. If his daughter was anything like everyone else on the planet, he’d have at least twenty minutes to text before she picked something to watch. So, he opened the last message Jaskier had sent.

_—interested.—_ _  
_ _—100%—_ _  
_ _—Make that 1000% ;)—_

Geralt shook his head as he typed out his reply.

—Staying in a motel, didn’t bring anything with me but a change of clothes.—

Jaskier’s reply was almost instant.

— _I have a house, and I have everything we could possibly need. We should meet up first though, somewhere neutral. Chat a bit, figure out want we want..._ —

Geralt sighed. It wasn’t that he was against meeting up beforehand, but he really didn’t want Jaskier getting the idea that this might be something permanent. Just the way the man talked about heartbreak, and the way Yennefer mentioned Jaskier falling in love with everyone, had him wary.

—8:30. I’ll send you the address of the restaurant.—

— _It’s a date!_ —

—No. It’s not.—

— _It’s a mutually agreed upon meeting to get to know each other and discuss our preferences and history!_ —

Geralt was already having regrets. It was probably best for both of them that Ciri chose her movie at that moment. 

“Are they going to be my new mom or dad?” Ciri asked, eyeing him as the credits for _The Road to El Dorado_ began to play.

“I fucking hope not,” Geralt grumbled. He didn’t bother asking how she figured it was a romantic partner, though he didn’t really consider setting up a scene a romantic endeavor. 

Ciri giggled. 

“Can you lower that?” Geralt asked softly as the music started playing loudly.

“Sorry,” Ciri whispered, lowering the music more than she needed to before putting subtitles on. She looked up at him sheepishly.

“It doesn’t have to be that quiet,” he said, leaning over to take the remote from her and turning the sound up as high as he could tolerate it from Yen’s state of the art entertainment system. The surround sound was always disorienting, but he didn’t want to ruin the movie for Ciri. Not that she ever complained.

“I don’t mind…”

“I know, but I’m fine.” He promised her as he handed the remote back to her and pulled her against his side. He’d start to zone as soon as she was settled, and the television would just become part of the white noise.

* * *

Geralt sat in the quiet corner booth of the upscale restaurant. He hadn’t chosen the place for its food but instead for the atmosphere. The heavy carpet on the floors and the small rooms made the place quiet, and the romantic lighting was dim rather than harsh. Each table was fairly secluded. Both good for having private conversations and not getting a headache from loud neighbors.

It was one of two restaurants that Geralt frequented when he was in town. The other being Yennefer’s bar, but that was for a whole host of separate reasons, none of which had anything to do with the ambiance.

Geralt wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to meet Jaskier for dinner. He’d left his number, imagining Jaskier would be a quick lay, but the man was thorough. He may never shut up when given the opportunity to speak, but behind the wealth of words was a keen mind. At least he hoped that’s what the increasingly complicated innuendos meant.

Sipping the beer he’d ordered when he’d arrived, Geralt tried to enjoy the quiet of his little corner, knowing that there would be none to be had once Jaskier arrived. Even the man’s texts were wordy and meandering. There was always a point, but the journey he took to get to each and every point was long and certainly not straight.

“Thank you, my dear,” Jaskier said as he arrived at the table with the hostess. He’d changed since that morning. He was once again wearing a waistcoat, but this time it was a rich red that popped against the slate gray of his shirt. The man was like a peacock, constantly displaying an array of vibrant colors to attract the eye. He also seemed to move like a bird trying to attract a mate, light on his feet and a flurry of movement.

The hostess looked completely taken with him as she handed Jaskier his menu and went through the wine list. For his part, Jaskier gave her his full attention as though he had never heard of wine before and was completely charmed by the whole idea of it.

“I’ll just have what he’s having,” Jaskier said with a wink that made the woman blush. She smiled before leaving them to their business. “Sorry if I’m late. Never been here before. Could it be more out of the way with an entrance in a back alley? Half expected to walk in and leave without my kidneys or something. That is to say it seemed sketchy, Geralt.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m glad to see you are always so loquacious, and you weren’t just nervous when we met earlier.”

Jaskier was actually quite amusing, and he worked a smile out of Geralt with that one. Geralt knew his silence put a lot of people off, but talking for the sake of it was exhausting. 

“Bestill my heart, you can smile,” Jaskier teased him, and the playful tone was relaxing rather than grating.

“You wanted to meet. What did you wish to discuss?” Geralt asked. It wasn’t that he was against meeting a partner prior to play, but he found that such meetings quickly lost their meaning if he didn’t keep them on track.

“Right down to business? Before appetizers?” 

“Mm.”

“Okay then. I just wanted to get to know you. Get a feel for you before we do anything. Meet the man behind the legend so to speak,” Jaskier said, looking around the quiet dining room. “Romantic, nice. I’ll have to remember this place.”

“It’s quiet.”

“I mean sure, but we shouldn’t hold that against it completely. I wonder if they need a musician to serenade the guests during dinner. I used to play the piano at an upscale restaurant, but they fired me for sleeping with one too many guests...while they were dining with their spouses.”

Geralt shook his head. The man was ridiculous, but there was also something soothing about him.

“How about I go first since you’re a connoisseur of brooding silence?” Jaskier asked, smiling almost dotingly at him.

“Hmm.”

“Wonderful. Since you gave me your name, I think it only fair that you know my given name is Julian. I prefer Jaskier though. Generally scene or not, people know me as Jaskier. I mean, I don’t _hate_ my name...just the people who gave it to me...that was probably too much information. Anyway, how did you get the moniker the White Wolf? I mean other than the very obvious hair.” Jaskier gestured to his hair which he’d pulled back into a ponytail for their dinner.

Geralt processed everything Jaskier had thrown at him, taking his time before he answered Jaskier’s question. For his part, Jaskier didn’t rush him.

“I pace.”

“You—” Jaskier paused as their waitress returned with Jaskier’s drink and a second mug for Geralt as well. “Thank you very much.”

“You're welcome. Can I start you two with any appetizers?” she asked.

“Oh well, I haven’t had the—”

“Calamari, the dayboat scallops special, and your mussels...make those marinara not fra diavolo,” Geralt ordered without glancing at the menu.

“I’ll put that right in.”

Jaskier blinked at him in surprise. “Can you put whole sentences together?”

Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Not a spicy guy? Except in the bedroom, of course,” Jaskier asked, adding in a leer for good measure. It was absurd.

“Generally no.”

“Hmm. I like some heat in my food. Makes me feel all warm…”

“I can order the fra diavolo for you,” Geralt offered, knowing he wouldn’t be able to eat it if Jaskier insisted but offered anyway.

“No, I trust your expertise. Anyway, what were you saying about pacing?” Jaskier took a sip of his beer, giving Geralt his full attention.

Geralt sighed. “There are many reasons I am called the white wolf, but I first got the name because I pace when a scene is too stimulating or a Dom is too...chaotic.” Geralt paused, searching for a better word, but he came up short. He didn’t know how to really explain how some Doms got intimidated by his size or reputation and overcompensated or became unpredictable. It wasn’t something he wanted to get into now, so he pressed on. “Someone mistook it for aggression and called me the wolf. It stuck, and different people have put different meanings on it.”

“Fascinating. We are definitely going to circle back to that, but it definitely seems like dinner conversation rather than cocktail hour fare. It is my turn to share anyway. Ask me anything?” Jaskier grinned at him, holding his arms out.

Geralt studied him. “How did you discover your preferred role?” he asked. It was something that genuinely fascinated him about most of his partners. He himself had never easily fallen into a single role, though there were certainly those he favored.

“Oh that’s easy, lots of experimentation. I mean loads of it. There is little I haven't tried at this point. Watersports, produce, diapers, roleplay, petplay, sugar baby, sub, Dom. You name it, and I have probably tried it at least once. And yes, I realize that a lot of people find it funny that I settled on gentle dominance after all of that,” Jaskier said, moving his hands around as he spoke.

“Not funny.”

“Oh, and how do you find it?”

“I have no opinion on it, and neither should anyone else.”

Jaskier smiled at him as though he’d said something truly sweet. Geralt took a long sip of his beer and ignored the man’s adoring looks.

“How about you? How does one go about becoming a legendary switch?”

Geralt snorted, and shook his head.

“What? You _are_ a legend.” Somehow the man had guessed the meaning of his snort perfectly which few either bothered to understand or were capable of.

“That just means everyone thinks they have a right to a part of you, can say what they please about you, and they will say whatever justifies their own beliefs,” Geralt said, focusing on his drink rather than Jaskier. He wasn’t sure why he was being so honest with the man. It wasn’t like this was necessary to whatever they chose to do. It wasn’t like this was going to be a regular thing.

Jaskier looked contemplative as he ran his fingertips over his pint glass. “How would you describe yourself?” Jaskier asked, looking up at him with guileless eyes.

Geralt frowned. If possible, this was worse than being asked about others' opinions. 

Seeming to read Geralt’s hesitation, Jaskier reached across the table and poked his hand gently where it rested on the wood. “How about...what is something you didn’t expect to enjoy but really loved? I had a Domme about eight years ago who loved sounding, and I was really close to saying hard no, but I said I’ll try anything once. It was...oh boy, it was intense, but in a really good way. Haven’t done it since we broke it off. Not sure I’d trust anyone else, but it was definitely worth the experience.”

Geralt smiled. He’d been sounded plenty of times, and he understood what Jaskier meant. 

Jaskier continued to smile at him, waiting.

Sighing, Geralt glanced around the dining room, but no one was paying them any mind. “Desperation play.”

“Oh, intriguing! Don’t be stingy on the details. How desperate are we talking? Mildly uncomfortable? Brink of disaster? Over the edge?” His eyes lit up as he listed the possibilities. 

Geralt rolled his eyes. The man was like an excited puppy, but he clearly had an interest in the topic that went beyond the immediate physical and psychological gratification of a scene. 

“I have enjoyed it all at one point or another,” Geralt said, shrugging.

Jaskier looked even more besotted at that declaration if that was even possible. “No pressure, but would that be something you’d want to try with me?”

“Not with a one time partner,” Geralt told him. From what he’d seen of Jaskier already, he might be willing to trust the man with that, but he’d need to see him in a scene first. He’d met plenty of seemingly competent Doms make stupid mistakes in simple scenes. He usually blamed himself for it, but even so he wasn’t willing to take a chance on a stranger.

“Right. Understandable.” Jaskier was quiet for only a moment before launching into his next line of inquiry. “So, before we make any drastic decisions. A little about me…”

“It really isn’t necessary.”

“No, but I like to know my partners, even one-time partners. Makes a scene feel more intimate, more intense.”

“Hmm.” Those were some of the very reasons that Geralt avoided such things, but he wouldn’t deny the man his comforts.

“I’m a professor. I may have mentioned that. I own a house that I told myself I would fix up, but I’ve had it for about four years now and haven’t gotten any further than updating the bathroom. And I only did that because the original was something out of nightmares.”

Geralt listened to Jaskier tell his story at length. He hardly paused to take a breath when their waitress came back with appetizers, and he only paused long enough to swallow each bite of seafood he devoured. 

Jaskier was not shy about sharing, and he even fought Geralt for the last calamari. Geralt didn’t put up that much of a fight, mainly because he was surprised by Jaskier’s fork knocking his away and snatching up the food.

Geralt was even more surprised that he didn’t really mind Jaskier’s constant chatter. His voice wasn’t harsh, and he wasn’t particularly loud despite how enthusiastic he was. Geralt found himself focusing on the steady stream of words flowing from Jaskier’s lips, and the rest of the restaurant faded away. He didn’t even protest when Jaskier ordered his entree for him, claiming it was only fair since Geralt had ordered the appetizers. Geralt had a sneaking suspicion it was really because Jaskier wanted both entrees, so he intended to share.

His suspicions were confirmed when Jaskier immediately picked a potato off of Geralt’s plate when it was placed in front of him. Geralt gave him a withering look, but Jaskier seemed undeterred.

“Don’t give me that look. You can have some of mine as well.”

Geralt didn’t say anything, instead tucking into his steak which was very good and something he probably would’ve ordered himself. However, every time he cut a few pieces of the rare steak, Jaskier stole a piece. 

Jaskier didn’t even acknowledge that he was doing it. He just kept talking and gesticulating like eating half a stranger’s food was commonplace.

“You would not believe some of the things I have to read from these undergrads. Honestly, I worry for some of them...and for their sexual partners. I mean, if they cannot find an answer that is explicitly stated in a searchable electronic document, how can it be expected that they locate the clitoris?” Jaskier asked, reaching across the table toward Geralt’s meal once again. “Or the prostate for that matter.”

Geralt waited until Jaskier’s fork was inches away from his food before striking out with his own fork, catching Jaskier’s fork through the tines, twirling his own, and dis-forking the man smoothly.

Jaskier’s eyes were wide as his fork went flying into the potted plant beside their quiet booth. “Were you going to eat that?” Jaskier asked innocently.

Geralt just shook his head in disbelief.

Jaskier narrowed his eyes. “Then why did you un-fork me?”

“You’ve hardly eaten your own meal, but you’ve eaten half of mine.”

“Yours is better.”

Geralt sighed, and he nudged his plate in Jaskier’s direction. 

Jaskier grinned at him, reaching over and plucking his fork out of his hand and digging into the steak. Geralt watched him polish it off in a matter of minutes, but he wasn’t particularly upset about it. He was more amused by the man’s audacity. It was the sort of thing that Ciri or Yen would do.

“So, circling back. You pace. Should I be prepared for that? Do you have a word or sign you use when you need to pace that I should be aware of? Is there something I can do when you start pacing to help?” Jaskier asked, gesturing with Geralt’s fork which had a piece of steak dripping juices from the end of it. 

Geralt gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to get into this. “It won’t be a problem.”

“No, it won’t. That’s not what I asked though.”

Geralt glared at him, but Jaskier just continued to eat Geralt’s food looking completely unfazed by the daggers Geralt’s eyes were shooting at him.

“Would you like some ravioli? Would that make you less cantankerous?” Jaskier asked, pointing at the meal he’d abandoned in favor of Geralt’s. 

“No.”

“Very well. I still expect an answer though.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “It has only happened with inexperienced Doms or ones who are unpredictable with punishments because they think it will get them obedience.”

“Mm…” Jaskier finished chewing a piece of meat, pointing his fork at Geralt as he swallowed. “What I’m hearing is that you don’t use your safeword when you should because none of that sounds okay.”

“Side effect of being a legend as you called it.”

“That’s bullshit. If you can’t control your sub within the parameters of the agreed upon scene, you shouldn’t be doing this,” Jaskier hissed. “Pacing like a caged animal... _fuck_ . Here’s what I think we will do. Stop me if anything, and I mean _anything_ sounds unappealing.”

“Hmm.”

“Good. First when you get to my house, I am going to strip you down and admire your body because I know under all that leather there is a mouthwatering body. I am going to admire every inch of you while you stand completely still, letting me. When my eyes have had their fill, I’m going to taste every inch of you. And once I have a taste of you, I think I’ll have you sit at my feet and feed you by hand because someone needs to take care of you since you just let people steal your dinner out from under you.” Jaskier’s eyes were mischievous as he said it.

Geralt huffed, trying to fight a smile. The scene certainly wasn’t his usual fare. However, it sounded pleasant. It sounded like it would be easy to focus on Jaskier completely rather than outside stimuli. Having an anchor to focus on always helped him sink deeper into the scene. 

“Does that sound like a good start?” Jaskier suddenly looked almost bashful as he paused when Geralt didn’t give an opinion on his ideas.

“It does.” 

Jaskier’s smile was sudden, and it cracked across his face like the sun suddenly breaking through the clouds. Geralt was taken aback for a moment as Jaskier just grinned at him, tilting his head like Geralt was something worth cherishing. It was uncomfortable in the way a dom praising him in a scene was. It was something he found he desperately enjoyed but wasn’t used to at all. Something told Geralt that their scene would be filled with this strangely pleasing discomfort.

“What are your thoughts on dessert?” Jaskier asked suddenly.

“No thank you.” Geralt said, amazed by how quickly Jaskier’s mind went back to his meal.

“Unfortunate because I spied a decadent delight that I cannot possibly pass up. I hope you don’t mind…”

“You are welcome to have dessert,” Geralt sighed.

He was not entirely surprised when a thick piece of chocolate layer cake was brought to the table, smothered in ice cream and chocolate sauce. Geralt's teeth hurt just looking at it, and he couldn’t control his revulsion when Jaskier offered him a spoonful.

“You sure you don’t want any?” Jaskier asked, waving the spoon around like he was trying to entice a fussy toddler.

Geralt gave him a flat look.

“Suit yourself. So, what is it that you do?” Jaskier asked before popping the whole mess of a scoop into his mouth. 

Geralt willed himself not to react as vanilla ice cream dripped onto his chin. Jaskier seemed completely oblivious to it as he made an obscene sound at the flavor.

Losing patience, Geralt reached across the table and wiped Jaskier’s chin with the pad of his thumb. Jaskier’s eyes widened at Geralt’s action, but before Geralt could move away the man quickly licked the ice cream off of his thumb. His eyelids drooped as he sucked Geralt’s thumb into his mouth right there in the restaurant, not that anyone was paying them any mind. 

“I said I’d feed you, not the other way around,” Jaskier’s voice was thick as he finally gathered his wits.

“Hmm.” Geralt was trying his hardest to remain impassive, as least outwardly. However, he’d never had someone do that before, and his entire body felt warm.

Jaskier rolled his eyes, but he caught Geralt’s hand before he could pull it away, and he kissed Geralt’s palm. “Thank you.”

Geralt gave him a questioning look. 

“For giving me your number despite my spectacularly messy first impression. For agreeing to dinner. For letting me eat your meal. And for what I am quite certain is going to be a scene that will ruin me for all other partners,” Jaskier listed eloquently. The man seemed to have no qualms whatsoever about wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“Finish your cake before the melted ice cream gets everywhere.”

“Yes, I would hate for you to have to wipe it away from anywhere else. The scandal.”

“You are an incorrigible flirt.”

“Guilty as charged. But don’t think I forgot you never answered my question.”

Geralt grunted. “Private security.”

“Oh. Like a bodyguard?”

“Like private events with important people.”

“Fascinating. So, there _are_ muscles under that leather.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. He watched Jaskier finish eating his dessert and making inappropriate noises the entire time when his mouth was too full to speak. It was strangely endearing. Geralt couldn’t understand the man across from him, but he couldn’t deny that he was intrigued.

Once they had finished, they split the bill despite Jaskier’s protests. The waitress seemed amused by their silent argument over who would pay, but eventually they split it, though Geralt couldn’t explain how they’d come to the truce. 

As they were finally getting up from their table, Jaskier was rambling on about the difficulty of finding a well tailored waistcoat when he paused and grabbed the basket of bread he hadn’t touched during the meal. 

Geralt’s eyes went wide as Jaskier picked up three dinner rolls and tucked them into the pockets of his pants and coat like a squirrel secreting away a nut for later.

Seeming to remember Geralt was there all at once, Jaskier looked up from where he was tucking the last roll into his pants, his wide eyes catching Geralt’s. Geralt raised an eyebrow at the behavior, and Jaskier gave him a sheepish smile.

“Old habits. You never leave bread on the table when you don’t know when your next meal is going to be,” he said, straightening out his attire.

“Hmm. Not like they can put it out for someone else anyway,” Geralt said with a shrug. His heart tugged a little at the man’s admission while also tugging in a different way for how fucking weird he was.

“Yes, well, certainly not after it's been in my pants.”

Geralt snorted, but motioned toward the exit. “Let’s go. Unless you want to steal the salt and pepper shakers or the cloth napkins as well. Need a potted plan while you’re at it?” he asked tipping his head at the plant that was now the home of Jaskier’s fork.

“You cheeky bastard,” Jaskier smiled, losing the nervousness. “And I couldn’t possibly fit that whole plant in these skinny jeans.”

“Would’ve said the same about the bread.”

“Touche,” Jaskier said, turning and leading the way to the exit. “I am expecting you to walk me to my car to put your private security skills to use. Oh! I could be Whitney Houston to your Kevin Costner. I promise I won’t mind if you carry me out of the alleyway,” Jaskier said as they walked out of the restaurant.

Geralt rolled his eyes, but he continued to walk beside Jaskier. 

“Or do you prefer Dances with Wolves Costner...you know...being the White Wolf and all,” Jaskier asked as they stepped into the shadows where the lighting had gone out.

Geralt growled and shoved Jaskier against the side of the building. “Do you ever shut up?” he asked, pinning Jaskier there.

“Only if I’m forced to,” he said, licking his lips in what Geralt knew to be an intentional display.

Geralt growled and gave in to the tension that had been building throughout dinner. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Jaskier’s in a hungry kiss. He could taste the chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream on Jaskier’s soft lips. It was far more decadent than the dessert itself could have been. 

Jaskier wasn’t one to let himself be ravished, and he quickly deepened the kiss, somehow also managing to switch their positions. He shoved Geralt against the wall as he pressed his tongue into Geralt’s mouth, teasing that decadent taste again before pulling back.

“Mm, I should’ve just had you for dessert,” Jaskier said, grinning at him.

Geralt growled, leaning forward for another taste, but Jaskier pulled back to remain just out of reach.

“Until tomorrow, White Wolf,” Jaskier said with a dangerous gleam in his eye.

Geralt was shocked as Jaskier pulled away and began to walk again. 

“Do catch up. If someone murders me on the way to my vehicle, you’ll never know what else I can do with my mouth,” Jaskier called over his shoulder.

Geralt gritted his teeth as he pushed away from the wall and followed the man, quickly falling into step with him once again. When they reached Jaskier’s ancient teal Civic, Jaskier turned to him with a smile.

“Until tomorrow?”

“Hmm.”

“Three o’clock?”

“Hmm.”

“I will send you my address, and you will send me your likes and limits.”

“Hmm.”

“ _Splendid_.” Jaskier said before slipping into his car and starting it up. He pulled away, leaving Geralt standing on the sidewalk sporting a semi and wondering what had just hit him. He tried to work it out as he rode back to his motel, but Jaskier was an enigma. Somehow, despite all of the information he had thrown at Geralt and the constant talking, the man remained a bit of a mystery.

Geralt laid in bed that night thinking of vibrant blue eyes and mischievous smiles. He recalled Jaskier’s off-the-cuff plan for their scene, and felt himself grow hard. He’d never anticipated a scene more.


	3. An Exercise in Anticipation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter was close to 10k, but for the sake of editing it, I split it in two. Don't hate me. I might post the second half this weekend instead of Tuesday if I have the chance to edit it.

Jaskier paced across his living room. He stopped to rearrange the flowers on the coffee table for the third time, and then he had to adjust the angle of the book of poetry beside it. He paced to the other side of the living room, only to stop and run his finger down the lampshade and cringe.

Pulling a dust cloth out of his back pocket, he brushed the lampshade down until his finger no longer came away with a smudge of black on it. He mentally congratulated himself for not rushing to get the vacuum cleaner out. 

Jaskier was fine. Not nervous at all. 

Really, he couldn’t justify being this unsettled—not nervous—when he’d done this at least one hundred times at this point. He wasn’t wet behind the ears. He knew how to run a scene, and he certainly knew how to handle even the most trying sub. Geralt wasn’t any different even if he had made a name for himself for being a Dom breaker. 

It wasn’t Geralt’s fault that other Doms hadn’t known how to accommodate his needs. He’d been frank about his needs and expectations via text. There was nothing coy or deceptive about him. Jaskier had planned accordingly, so there was really no point in getting himself worked up.

-Limit unnecessary stimulation  
-No yelling  
-Avoid harsh lighting  
-Announce type and duration of punishments prior to discipline

Geralt was succinct which was good when it came to limitations. None of it was unreasonable, or remotely difficult to follow. 

A knock on the door had Jaskier jumping about a foot in the air before he sprinted across the room, only to stop and compose himself before opening the door. He threw the dust cloth into one of his boots that were neatly lined up in the entryway. 

Brushing his fingers through his hair to make it cooperate, Jaskier opened the door with what he hoped was a welcoming smile.

The smile fell when he was not greeted by a breathtaking white-haired sub who could snap him in half if he so chose, but instead by a girl of ten wearing a Girl Scouts uniform. She looked up at him with unassuming green eyes, and a sweet smile.

“Hi, Mr. Pankratz. Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies? I know you always buy three boxes of S’mores, four Tagalongs, and as many Thin Mints as I can get my tiny hands on...but mom said I had to check with you before I put the order in.”

“Of course, I want cookies, Ciri,” Jaskier said, lifting his head to glare across his yard to Yennefer who was standing beside her car cackling like the witch she was. “How much do I owe you for my usual order?”

“I’ll have to check to see how many boxes of Thin Mints I can get you without causing a riot,” she said, frowning down at her little clipboard like she was trying to work it out in her head. 

Jaskier reached forward and touched the top of her blonde head affectionately, trying his best not to let his disappointment show on his face. He was never disappointed to see Ciri, but these were extenuating circumstances.

As Ciri was scratching out his order onto the official form, another car pulled up in front of his house. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it looked fairly new. Geralt stepped out of the car , unfolding his long limbs and tilting his head in a way that looked like he was cracking it. 

Jaskier was mesmerized.

Geralt made a wordless gesture at Yennefer who shrugged innocently, or as innocently as the very guilty woman could muster. That is to say  _ not  _ innocently at all. Dammit, she was smug.

“Jaskier did you hear—” Ciri’s words died on her lips as she turned to see what had captured Jaskier’s attention so thoroughly. “Hi, Dad.” She waved her arm in the air at Geralt, and Jaskier almost choked.

“Dad?” he croaked, trying to do the math in his head. Yennefer had never really talked about Ciri’s father. As far as he knew, they were not on bad terms. The man had custody of Ciri a weekend per month and the entirety of the summer. However, Jaskier had never met the man or heard his name...or maybe he had and just hadn’t realized it.

“Yeah. You know Geralt?” she asked, turning back to Jaskier as Geralt made his way up the driveway with Yennefer in tow.

“Um, y-yes…” Jaskier didn’t know what to say. They weren’t friends, and he certainly couldn’t tell the man’s daughter that he intended to tie her father up and dominate him within the next hour. 

“How are sales?” Geralt asked Ciri as he got close, saving Jaskier from a truly awkward answer in the process.

“On track with last year, but I want to beat that. I have stiff competition this year from Marilka,” Ciri said, looking up at her father with a blinding smile.

“Let me know what you need me to buy, Lion Cub,” Geralt said, bending down to press a kiss to her hair.

Jaskier tried not to let that melt his already compromised heart. It would be too easy to completely fall for Geralt before they even knew if they were really compatible. 

“Are you here to see, Jaskier?” Ciri asked, dropping the formal name now that their business had concluded. 

“I am.”

“Be nice to him. He sneaks me sweets when Mom isn’t looking,” she told him seriously.

Geralt glanced at Jaskier who smiled at him awkwardly. Then he looked down at his daughter with an unrestrained smile. “I promise to be nice.” It sounded like a grumble, but Ciri didn’t take it as such.

“Good.” She nodded once, like when she was striking a deal about getting someone to buy an extra box of cookies. Geralt nodded back like he took the promise just as seriously.

“I suppose we should be going. After all, we have more weak-willed individuals to sucker into buying cookies if we are going to win this year’s prize, don’t we darling?” Yennefer said, patting Ciri’s shoulder proudly.

“Yes, we do,” Ciri agreed.

Geralt shook his head fondly and pressed another kiss to Ciri’s hair. “Have fun,” he said, embracing Ciri without hesitation as she hugged him, still holding her clipboard. 

“We’ll leave you to...hammer things out.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “So nice of you to stop by this afternoon when you could’ve just asked me at the bar yesterday.”

“And deprive Ciri of getting to visit her favorite customer?”

“Or deprive you of—”

“Take care, Yen,” Geralt cut him off, pulling Yennefer in even as Ciri continued to hug him, and kissing the meddling woman tenderly over Ciri’s head.

“Always a pleasure, Geralt,” Yennefer nearly purred as she pulled away. “Jaskier, I’m sure I’ll see you soon when yet another heartbreak leaves you to drown your sorrows.”

“Or for tapas night on Thursday,” Ciri added like it was common knowledge that Jaskier got his heart broken regularly.

“See you, Ciri. Elphaba,” Jaskier deadpanned at Yennefer.

She batted her eyelashes at him as she led Ciri back to the car, letting out a ridiculous cackle as she went.

“Bye dad. You should take Roach’s advice,” Ciri called as she got into Yennefer’s car.

“Who’s Roach?” Jaskier asked, standing awkwardly in his bare feet.

“Her toy horse.” Geralt admitted easily.

“What kind of advice does Roach give?” he asked, suddenly intrigued by the idea that Geralt played with Ciri’s toys with her. He himself had played with Ciri plenty of times, but he had never been introduced to Roach before.

“Relationship advice.”

“Huh. I thought Stacy gave relationship advice,” Jaskier said, scratching the back of his head. 

Geralt huffed. “Roach gives better advice.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Men aren’t worth half the trouble they cause.”

“Touche.” Jaskier said, laughing at the image that sprung to mind of Geralt very seriously telling Ciri that boys sucked via her toy horse, and then his smile faded as he realized Ciri’s last words to her father.

“You’re good friends with Yen?” Geralt asked as they both stood awkwardly on Jaskier’s front stoop.

“What gave you that idea?”

“She’s not usually so playful.”

“She does derive joy from making my life hell. Like showing up when she clearly knows I’m meeting someone,” Jaskier said.

“Sorry about that. She asked me to take Ciri out to collect cookie orders, and I told her I’d already promised you my time.”

“I guess we have that in common then.”

“She asked you to take Ciri out too?”

Jaskier opened his mouth to correct him before realizing it was a joke. “Funny,” he deadpanned.

Geralt shrugged.

“I wouldn’t mind rescheduling if you want to go with Ciri. I mean, I totally would not have believed you via text and would’ve just imagined you were coming up with an elaborate avoidance maneuver, but seeing it all go down in person, I really can’t blame you if you want to spend time with your daughter. I understand that you don’t get that much of it…”

Geralt grunted, but when he saw that that wasn’t actually enough of an explanation for Jaskier he sighed. “Need this.”

“So, you turned down your daughter because you’re horny?” Jaskier didn’t mean for it to sound as judgmental as it came out.

Geralt snorted. “I didn’t turn down Ciri. I turned down Yennefer. I love Ciri, but I just had her for a week while Yen was away which is why I’m in town. I went to the zoo, the mall, the park, multiple museums, the movies, and enough fast food joints to solidify all of my arteries. I have had too much human contact in too little time. Ciri is not wanting for my attention, and I’ll see her before I leave town.”

Jaskier paused. That was a whole lot of words for such a quiet man, but Jaskier got it. Yennefer had asked him to babysit plenty of times because she needed a night to tend to her own needs.

“Not judging. Just didn’t want to impose...even if I had no idea you were Ciri’s dad.”

“It’s fine.” It seemed the will to speak had left him as suddenly as it had appeared.

“So, um, welcome...to my house this time,” Jaskier said, motioning to the entryway and stepping aside for Geralt to enter.

Geralt nodded, stepping inside, and Jaskier took a moment to take a good look at him. He wasn’t dressed like he had been the day before. Today, he was wearing a charcoal gray hoodie that looked so soft and like it could fit two of Jaskier inside of it. Beneath that, he wore a pair of athletic leggings and black sneakers. It was quite a departure from the previous day’s leather, worn jeans, and boots. Yet, it looked just as good and just as intimidating on Geralt’s massive form.

“I see that you are not one to skip leg day, huh?” Jaskier said as he struggled to tear his eyes away from Geralt’s muscled thighs and ass.

Geralt grunted but didn’t say anything else as he stopped just inside the entryway and began to take off his shoes. 

“You can leave your socks if you’re more comfortable, but…” Jaskier looked down at his own bare feet, wiggling his toes. “Whatever you want. I’ll get us some water.”

Jaskier didn’t wait for Geralt to make a decision before he hightailed it into the kitchen and pulled two water bottles out of the refrigerator. He took several breaths before walking back to the entryway to find Geralt barefoot and bare chested. 

“Oh...you don’t need to…”

“Do you not want—”

“No no no.  _ I do _ . I just figured we could start slow. I know our texts didn’t mention that, but I want you to be comfortable.” Jaskier internally cringed at how awkward things were all of a sudden. Damn Yennefer and her meddling.

“I’m fine.”

“Right.” Jaskier stood there holding two chilled water bottles and tried to push down the sudden sense that he might just be in over his head. 

Geralt stood in front of him in just a pair of too-tight leggings. His chest was covered in hair that Jaskier just wanted to run his fingers through, and a not insignificant number of scars that only added to the allure. His body was simply unfair. Forget breaking him in half, if Geralt set his mind to it there would be nothing left of Jaskier. 

Jaskier was going to need more than a bottle of water to cool himself off, and they hadn’t even started yet.

“Water?” he offered, holding out one of the bottles. 

Geralt hummed as he took the bottle and twisted off the cap. It showcased his bicep, and Jaskier bit his lip as he twisted the cap off his own bottle and took several sips in quick succession. 

“Where do you want me?” Geralt asked after he’d gulped down half of the bottle in one go. 

“Oh. Right. I don’t have a playroom or anything. I usually use the spare bedroom, but it is currently filled with the overspill of documents from the spring semester and research.”

Geralt gave him a look that Jaskier couldn’t quite decipher until he went over his words twice in his head. 

“Right. I figured we could use my bedroom so long as that’s alright with you. I can move my documents if you’d rather not do a scene in my bedroom.”

“Don’t care either way.”

“Great. So, I figured we can start out here before making our way in there…”

“Don’t need the whole breakdown. I gave you my lists. Stick to them, and you can do what you want with the scene itself.”

Jaskier nodded, taking another gulp of water. He supposed there was a freedom that came with being able to overpower anyone he played with, less fear of being taken advantage of. Though Jaskier knew that wasn’t necessarily the case. Perhaps it was a false sense of security, or Geralt simply knew he was the baddest person in the room and those were simply the facts. 

Trying not to dwell on Geralt’s willingness to hand the scene over to him without extensive discussion, Jaskier held his hand out to take the now empty bottle from Geralt. 

“Well, let me show you around, so you know where things are. Nothing is worse than having to pee in the middle of a scene and getting all turned around while looking for the bathroom.”

Geralt grunted in what might have been agreement, but Jaskier didn’t bother to give it any thought. Whether Geralt wanted the tour or not, it wasn’t negotiable.

“So, the living room is right through here. I figure we’ll start here first…” Jaskier led Geralt through the house, stopping to show him the bathroom and where anything he might need could be found such as towels. Then he led him down the hallway to his bedroom. 

Jaskier had cleaned the room until it looked like something out of some magazine, and he’d also hung the blackout curtains from the guest room over the windows. They matched the ones in the living room, so they were free to do as they pleased without fear of the neighbors seeing.

The rest of the tour was quick, ending in the kitchen where Jaskier inquired whether Geralt would like anything else to eat or drink before they got started.

“I’m fine,” was Geralt’s standard response.

“Please, for the love of God, do let me know if you become un-fine throughout this whole process,” Jaskier said, throwing his hands up. It was not a smooth move, and he would have been far more embarrassed by it if Geralt didn’t take it in stride.

Geralt gave him what seemed to be a fond smile. “You will know if I become  _ un-fine _ , as you put it.”

“Wonderful. Now…” Jaskier clapped his hands together and looked Geralt up and down. “My God, you are beautiful. I honestly could not imagine a more perfect sub,” Jaskier praised, stepping forward into Geralt’s space. 

Resting his palms on Geralt’s shoulders, he studied the man from the top of his head all the way down. He mapped every plane and valley of the man’s muscled body with his eyes, made note of the way his leggings did little to hide what lay beneath them. Even the man’s feet were pleasant to look at, and Jaskier was not by any means a foot person.

“I could write odes to your beauty,” Jaskier whispered, biting his lip as he moved his palms down to rest over Geralt’s chest. He wasn’t sure he’d ever encounter pecs as nice as Geralt’s. 

Geralt stood completely still, letting Jaskier touch him however he pleased.

Jaskier sighed when he received no response whatsoever from Geralt. “I can...I can try being meaner if you...if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“This is fine. I told you I don’t care what your style is.” Geralt didn’t seem to be lying, and nothing about his tone implied that he was annoyed or uninterested.

“I know. Shit. I think I have over-thought this to the point of hysteria. I just...I know it’s not fair, but you’re well known, and everything I’ve ever read is that you are difficult, and I thought that meant you didn’t behave, but now I understand. It’s been three minutes, and I’m already questioning—”

Geralt reached out with the speed of a viper’s strike, and wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s waist, pulling him flush against Geralt’s firm chest. His lips descended on Jaskier’s and kissed him possessively. They were hardly an inch or two apart in height, and Jaskier could feel every inch of Geralt as his breath and sense were stolen from him.

The kiss didn’t end there either. Geralt continued to kiss him, pressing his tongue to the seam of Jaskier’s lips, demanding entrance. Demanding Jaskier’s full attention. 

Jaskier would have been embarrassed that it took him probably a full minute to realize what Geralt was actually doing. However, the trick worked, so Jaskier wasn’t exactly cross with him for distracting him from his tumultuous thoughts. 

They both pulled back and looked at each other. Geralt’s expression was patient, and Jaskier wondered if this was something he regularly dealt with. Did he have to coddle his Doms in order for them to take control?

Jaskier shook his head. That was unacceptable, and Jaskier refused to disappoint. It didn’t matter if Geralt was quiet or didn’t show much emotion. Jaskier was a damn good Dom and he wasn’t going to let his nerves get the better of him.

“No more of that. You have to earn your kisses,” Jaskier said firmly. Just saying it gave him a bit of confidence.

Geralt stood in front of him unwavering, waiting for Jaskier’s next command. There was no protest or retort about Jaskier not having control.

Jaskier looked at Geralt, completely forgetting the detailed scene he’d crafted the night before. Geralt was...breathtaking. Jaskier’s eyes followed the line of Geralt’s neck down to his unreasonably muscled chest. There were scars there, and on his arms and torso. They didn’t detract from his body. In fact, Jaskier was mesmerized by the silver bands that streaked across his skin. 

Geralt flinched as Jaskier let his fingertip trace a scar that curled over his stomach. 

Jaskier made gentle shushing sounds as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to one of the scars on Geralt’s shoulders. “Won’t hurt you,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to Geralt’s jaw. 

He bit his lip, admiring the hair that covered Geralt, and followed it down over a strong core to the waistband of his leggings. His mouth watered as he studied the outline of Geralt’s cock behind the thin material of the leggings. The man was quite clearly not wearing underwear, and it was  _ distracting _ . Tearing his eyes away, he let them wander down shapely thighs.

Geralt didn’t say a word as Jaskier studied him. He didn’t sway or fidget. He just let himself be observed. A statue carved from the finest marble.

“I’ve never had this happen before. I’m simply overwhelmed by you, and I’ve completely forgotten my plan. But no worries. You are an inspiration—my muse for today’s proceedings. I am certain I will have no trouble at all orchestrating my finest scene when graced with such a perfect specimen. First, I think I need to see all of you. No, I  _ know  _ I need to see all of you,” Jaskier said, bringing his eyes back up to meet Geralt’s. 

Geralt didn’t say a word as he reached for the waistband of his pants.

“No!” Jaskier cried, throwing his arms out wide as he stepped forward.

Geralt stopped immediately and waited.

“I would like to do it,” Jaskier said more softly, reminding himself that he had the control. Nothing about Geralt’s behavior or demeanor made it seem like he would outright disobey or test Jaskier. He was happy to give over control; Jaskier just needed to take what was being offered.

Geralt moved his hands away, giving Jaskier space to do as he pleased. 

“I hope you are not in a hurry, but I think I will savor you like a fine wine,” Jaskier said, stepping back into Geralt’s space and resting his palms on his chest once more. “Spread you legs shoulder width apart.”

Jaskier smiled when Geralt did as he was commanded without hesitation.

“So good for me, my darling wolf,” Jaskier whispered against Geralt’s ear.

Geralt’s skin was warm, and there was something about touching him that brought a sense of peace to Jaskier. This man was entirely his for the afternoon—willing to let Jaskier take care of him and love him for this finite period. Jaskier wasn’t sure it would be enough, but he refused to waste the gift he’d been given.

“You must take very good care of your body,” Jaskier praised, running his palms over Geralt’s pecs and up to his shoulders. He smiled as he let them wander down to Geralt’s biceps. “You could break a man in half with these. If I were a man delighted by violence, I would love to see these in action.”

Geralt snorted at that.

Jaskier quickly swatted him on the chest, more in warning than to actually punish the man.

“What was that for?”

Geralt looked at him but kept his mouth shut.

“Speak. Tell me right this instant,” Jaskier insisted. He stopped touching Geralt completely, and that actually earned him a frown. The man  _ had  _ been enjoying it.

“You think you are the only one that heard whispers before this?” Geralt sounded too amused for Jaskier’s liking.

“Well, spit it out. What foul rumors have you been listening to? Has someone made it their mission to besmirch my good name and godly reputation?”

“Just whispers. Nothing worthy of note.” The man looked like he was barely holding in laughter.

Jaskier squeezed Geralt’s arms, unwilling to be told his own business. “I will be the judge of that. Now, tell me what it was that had you making such an indelicate noise at my praises.”

“It is just that I have heard you have a taste for violence when it suits you,” Geralt said, keeping his tone level. He wasn’t judging Jaskier or accusing him of something unforgivable.

“I—” Jaskier stopped himself from blurting out something defensive. He had control. “I suppose that I have indulged when the situation called for it. However, that matters little today, for I have no such inclination for our scene.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier reached up to take Geralt’s chin and catch his eye. “I hope these whispers didn’t…”

“It was nothing to claim you were anything other than proficient. Just that you are not nearly as much a pushover as the image you project.”

“Oh.”

“Mm.”

Jaskier didn’t stop himself from leaning in to kiss Geralt softly. He hummed at how surprisingly soft Geralt’s lips were now that he let himself really enjoy their kisses. Geralt easily surrendered control, letting Jaskier tease him with his tongue while keeping the kiss mostly chaste. 

“Thank you for being honest with me,” Jaskier said, pulling back enough to look Geralt in the eye. 

Geralt didn’t say anything, instead once again falling into his silent waiting.

“Where did I leave off? Your arms, right,” Jaskier said, once again taking hold of Geralt’s biceps before sliding his hands lower to his wrists. “These hands…” Jaskier let his voice trail off. If he didn’t stop himself now, he might just wax poetic about the strength of Geralt’s hands for the next hour.

“Come with me,” Jaskier commanded, taking one of Geralt’s hands in both of his and guiding him out of the kitchen toward his bedroom. He smiled to himself at how warm Geralt’s hand was. His fingers were covered in calluses, but there was something pleasantly safe about holding such a worn hand.

Geralt followed without complaint as Jaskier guided him back through the house, pausing only to make certain that the front door was locked before leading Geralt into his room and closing the door. He wanted no interruptions until he’d had his fill of the White Wolf.


	4. What Pleases You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be the only chapter for the week because I have a big assignment due on Sunday. No cliffhanger this time.

Geralt followed Jaskier through the living room and down the hall then into the bedroom. He let the man hold his hand the entire way, but it was odd holding a grown man’s hand. Not many, or _any_ , Doms he’d done scenes with were the type to hold their sub’s hand. Jaskier’s hand was also larger than Yen’s and at least twice the size of Ciri’s, but they weren’t rough like his own. However, Geralt could feel calluses on the man’s fingertips as they stroked his skin. It wasn’t unpleasant.

Jaskier walked backward through the entire house, so he could keep holding Geralt's hand in both of his own. Geralt realized that the man must have spent the day cleaning because not even Geralt, in his own sparsely furnished apartment, wouldn’t have faith that he wouldn't trip over a rogue sock that had gotten lost in the wash six months prior. 

It was endearing how much Jaskier cared and how much he put into his scenes. Maybe he was difficult, but mostly he just didn’t suffer fools well. Even with all of his quirks, Jaskier didn’t seem like a fool. 

Stepping into the bedroom, Jaskier gave him a sweet smile. “God, you are perfect,” he said, bringing Geralt’s hand up and placing a kiss to the back of it. 

Geralt frowned at how over the top Jaskier was, but it seemed genuine. 

Jaskier gave Geralt's hand a squeeze before letting it go and walking to the door to close it. 

Geralt turned and watched him, waiting until the door was about to click shut before moving on silent feet. 

Jaskier outright yelped as he turned to find Geralt in his personal space, physically challenging him. Geralt didn't do anything but block his path. He wanted to touch and taste, but they weren't there yet. His presence alone tended to be intimidating all on it own, never mind if he put his hands on his Dom even if it was to seek affection.

“You certainly are sneaky. If this was a regular thing, I’d need to get you a collar with a bell,” Jaskier said, reaching forward and bracing his hand on Geralt's chest like the sudden challenge didn't faze him. His easy touch put Geralt at ease even as he tested further.

Geralt growled deep in his throat and leaned in closer, pressing his nose to Jaskier’s neck just above the collar of his button up. He breathed him in, loving the combination of spicy soap and musky sweat. 

“How do I smell?” Jaskier asked, bringing his hand up to bury it in Geralt's hair, guiding his head even closer. “Don't be shy. You can get comfortable with me too.” He said it like Geralt wasn't being disobedient and challenging. 

Geralt just growled harder, nipping at Jaskier's warm skin. 

“Let's not get fresh,” Jaskier said firmly, and suddenly he was gripping the hair at the back of Geralt's head tightly and pulling him away like he was scruffing a puppy. 

Geralt's nostrils flared even as it felt like electrical bursts were sparking from where Jaskier tugged at his scalp. The sparks went right to his gut, and Geralt could do little to hide his arousal in these leggings. He probably should’ve worn underwear today, but didn’t really have pairs to spare in the tiny carry on he’d brought to town.

“Hmm, you like that, huh?” Jaskier asked with a lopsided smile. Being called out was humiliating. “Don't be naughty if you aren't ready to play dirty.” He said it in a playful tone, but there was a clear warning in his words. 

Geralt growled at him.

“If you growl at me like a dog, I have no problem teaching you some obedience,” Jaskier said, continuing to face him without a hint of fear that he didn’t have complete control. 

It was a balm to Geralt’s nerves. He stopped growling, and bowed his head. 

“There we go. I think I like this side of you even better, and I really liked you before,” Jaskier said happily, releasing the back of Geralt’s neck and bringing his hand forward to push a stray lock of hair from Geralt’s face. “It would please me greatly if you’d kneel for me on the cushion.

Geralt glanced over his shoulder to see the gel cushion that Jaskier had in the center of the floor. He was going to tell him that he didn’t need a cushion, but the thought of his knees not creaking for days was too good to pass up.

“Pants on?” he asked, turning his back to Jaskier and walking to the cushion.

“Pants on for now.” 

Geralt could feel Jaskier’s eyes on him as he slowly knelt down, continuing to face away from Jaskier. It was a display of trust which he hoped wouldn’t be abused. He placed his hands on his thighs, waiting for further instructions. His entire body hummed with anticipation. 

“Oh, this is good. Bow your head for me, please.” Jaskier sounded downright giddy just at the simple act of kneeling. 

Geralt did as he was instructed, closing his eyes and just listening to Jaskier tap his fingers against the locked door. The rhythm itself wasn’t anything he recognized, but it was soothing nonetheless.

Jaskier’s sheer presence was the only thing in the room with him. The heavy curtains and the carpet drowned out any sounds from outside, and Jaskier only had a few candles lit to give off a warm glow. Geralt was free to focus solely on his Dom which relieved another layer of tension from his body.

Jaskier didn’t approach him right away. Geralt continued to sense him at the door, tapping against the wood. The rhythm changed every so often like Jaskier was playing songs for him with just the tips of his fingers.

Geralt centered himself, slowing his breathing and letting himself sink into the moment. He could feel Jaskier’s eyes on him, studying him. It sent heat licking up his spine. He could feel his nipples pebble and his skin begin to buzz.

“Are you averse to speaking about your scars?” Jaskier asked. Geralt could hear him finally move away from the door, stepping further into the room until he was only a foot or two away from Geralt.

“Ask. Everyone else does,” Geralt replied. 

“But are you averse to it?”

“I don’t generally tell people to do things I don’t like.”

“But are you averse to it?”

Geralt growled. “I do not mind you asking about them. I am comfortable with them even if they are not my favorite feature,” he finally answered the question directly. His body hummed more with the confrontation.

“Mm, three tries, not bad. I was expecting you to be a bit more stubborn,” Jaskier’s voice circled him as the man carefully stepped around him without touching him.

Geralt didn’t take the bait. He let the comment sit between them, waiting for Jaskier to actually question him or give him a new test.

“Is that a bullet wound on your shoulder?” Jaskier asked. His voice came from Geralt’s left where a long scar from a deep graze cut across his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Is that the only one?” he asked, circling again.

“No.” 

“Which is the oldest scar?” 

“This one,” Geralt said, pointing to a faded scar on his jaw. He’d gotten it long before scars were a frequent byproduct of his profession. Though he wasn’t sure that many in his profession had accumulated quite as many as he had.

“Tell me about that one,” Jaskier said, kneeling in front of him and tilting his chin up with two fingers. He studied the faint line of the scar, but he didn’t touch it. 

Geralt restrained himself from offering to let him touch it. He wouldn’t beg.

“I don’t really recall. My mother told me that I got it playing in the ocean. A wave knocked me over, and I cut it on a seashell. Said it bled a lot, and she’d thought I’d slit my throat or something.”

“Oh.” Jaskier sounded quite affected by the story, and when Geralt looked up he had a soft smile on his face. “I’m just imagining a tiny you playing in the sand. I think you’ve compromised my heart, Wolf. Tell me, have you always had the white hair?” The line of questioning changed again with little acknowledgement of any shift.

Geralt shook his head. How the man could be so soft yet fearless was hard to wrap his head around. “No. Went white in my early twenties.”

“And you had…”

“Dark hair before.”

“I have a very adorable picture of child you in my mind, and I will accept no alternatives, unless you have cute baby pictures to share,” Jaskier said, finally stroking his thumb over the scar as though he’d unlocked the ability to access it. Geralt held himself still, but his body begged him to lean into it.

“No baby pictures. Mostly grew up in the foster system before joining the military.” Geralt snapped his mouth closed. He’d said too much. He wasn’t sure how Jaskier loosened his tongue when he wasn’t even probing at tough subjects. 

Jaskier continued to smile at him, but it lost some of its jubilance. “Which of my songs did you like best. I saw you listening to my fingers. You focused on them.”

The change of subject should’ve been jarring, but it easily pulled some of the tension from Geralt that had been slipping back in as he recalled his past. 

“The second to last.”

“That’s one of my favorites too,” Jaskier said, releasing Geralt’s chin and using his shoulder to push himself back to his feet. His hand touched the graze on his shoulder, and though it was years over it burned at Jaskier’s touch like the day he got it. The fire from it traveled across Geralt’s skin and pooled in his belly. 

As he walked away, he began to hum the tune softly, oblivious to his effect on Geralt. 

Geralt found his eyes closing again as Jaskier took a seat on his bed and just watched him quietly. He continued to hum softly for several minutes, fingers tapping quietly against the soft-looking comforter. The sound of Jaskier’s hum lulled him until he was only aware of Jaskier, and he felt his body sway gently with his breathing.

“There he is,” Jaskier whispered on a soft exhale. 

Geralt could hear Jaskier rise from the bed, but he didn’t open his eyes. He waited, listening to Jaskier’s humming grow closer.

“I am going to blindfold you. Are you amenable?”

“Mm.”

“That won’t do. Are you amenable?” Jaskier repeated.

Geralt could sense him standing in front of him again. Before he could respond, a gentle hand found its way into his hair as though to soothe him. It was up in a messy bun because Geralt had tied it back in a hurry to keep it out of his eyes.

“Yes.” Geralt growled, moving his head to shake off Jaskier’s fingers, but Jaskier didn’t acknowledge it. 

“Wonderful,” Jaskier said, stepping away and leaving Geralt to wait. This time he sang the song quietly.

Geralt opened his eyes to see him rifling through a chest at the end of his bed while he sang a song with surprisingly dirty lyrics for how soothing its melody was.

Jaskier’s eyes lit up as he removed a leather blindfold from the chest. The leather looked soft and supple as Jaskier tested it. 

“Had this one a while, but never had the right sub for it. I think it will look lovely on you,” Jaskier said, rising from where he knelt over the chest and returning to Geralt. I almost don’t want to cover those pretty eyes of yours, but I’ll see more of them later, I think.”

Jaskier knelt in front of him and smiled. “Thank you for trusting me,” he said before bringing the blindfold up.

Geralt closed his eyes as Jaskier covered them with the smooth leather and secured it behind his head. His fingers dragged over Geralt's cheeks as he finished. Geralt felt the itch at the back of his neck that came with the vulnerability.

Jaskier cupped his face and hummed softly which quieted Geralt’s mind. “The heavens would sing to your beauty,” he said, running his thumbs over Geralt’s stubbled cheeks. Then he brought his hand up to Geralt’s hair again and very carefully removed the hair tie. “Gorgeous.” It fell down over his shoulders, with several strands falling over his face. 

Geralt didn’t say anything as Jaskier ran his fingers through it, but his scalp prickled pleasantly with each touch. He held his head still, allowing Jaskier to touch and praise him, and it only seemed to make Jaskier praise him more. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I hope I continue to do it if the rewards are this nice,” Jaskier said, finally ceasing to pet Geralt. “Would you like to know what I intend to do to you, my White Wolf?” he asked.

“Whatever pleases you,” Geralt said, bowing his head. He could hear Jaskier circling him again, but he wasn’t agitated by it. It calmed him.

“Mm, everything about you pleases me. I think I will start by removing your leggings. They are lovely clinging to your legs, but I want to see _all_ of you.”

“As you wish,” Geralt said, remaining completely still. 

“Oh, I wish very much,” Jaskier said, stopping behind Geralt and resting his hands on Geralt’s shoulders. He gave him just enough of a nudge to make Geralt aware that he wanted him to go down onto all fours. 

It was a bit of a test. He was asking Geralt to put himself in a vulnerable position right after taking away one of his senses. 

Geralt didn’t hesitate. He felt sparks ignite where Jaskier touched him, and they traveled down his spine before pooling in his gut. He felt himself grow harder in his leggings as he leaned forward and braced his palms against the thick carpet. He shifted slightly to settle in a way that didn’t stress his arms or knees, and waited.

Jaskier knelt behind him and stroked his hip gently. “Look how good you are for me,” he praised as he slipped his thumbs beneath the waistband of Geralt’s leggings.

Geralt controlled his breathing as Jaskier paused. Centering himself even as his body felt hot from Jaskier’s continued contact.

Geralt understood that many enjoyed a vocal sub, but he was rarely loud. He was quiet and pulled most of what his Doms did to him inward. His Doms had to be more aware, more involved in the scene to know what pleased Geralt and what didn’t. When done right, it tied them both more tightly to the scene. Only time would tell if Jaskier was up for the challenge.

“Let’s see what secrets you’re hiding.” Jaskier slowly dragged the leggings over Geralt’s ass, pausing after they’d uncovered the thickest portion of it. He tugged them just to the tops of Geralt’s thighs and stopped to cup the muscular cheeks, humming a happy little melody as he squeezed them. 

Geralt almost choked on the moan that tried to escape his lips. The drag of fabric over his skin was enough to send shivers up his spine. Jaskier’s pleased sounds left him dizzy with pride.

“How often do you work out? It must be _frequently_. I went to the gym for a month straight in January, and all it got me was a gut from the smoothie bar. It’s a trap.” Jaskier’s words were light and distracting, but his voice itself was what Geralt latched onto, following the lilting words like a butterfly dancing through the garden. 

Jaskier continued to talk as he pulled the leggings further down Geralt’s legs, once again pausing to touch him which only increased the heat in Geralt’s belly. He ran his fingers over Geralt’s thighs, muttering dirty things under his breath that wound Geralt up further. Finally, he pulled the leggings all the way down and helped Geralt out of them without losing his balance. 

Jaskier wasn’t finished though. He remained behind Geralt, kissing his way up Geralt’s legs. Geralt actually did release a strangled groan as Jaskier’s soft lips pressed against the inside of his thigh. He continued to hum a tune as he pressed soft kiss after kiss to Geralt’s skin. Geralt could feel him smile at the way the hair on Geralt’s legs must have tickled his nose. 

When he reached Geralt’s ass again, he bit his left cheek, and Geralt was helpless against the groan it pulled from his throat. Geralt barely controlled his breathing as Jaskier’s lips trailed up his spine, wet lips dragging over skin.

Geralt forced himself to remain still against the onslaught of pleasure that Jaskier’s continued touch brought. He could hardly regulate his breathing when Jaskier draped his body over Geralt’s, holding him securely as he worshipped him with his mouth.

“You are a marvel,” Jaskier whispered against Geralt’s ear before pressing a kiss to his shoulder, and wrapping his arm across Geralt’s chest to guide him to kneel again. Jaskier kissed his shoulder again before resting his chin on it.

If Jaskier was a deeply introspective man, he might have been truly embarrassed by the sound that escaped his mouth a moment after he perched his chin on Geralt's shoulder. Geralt felt his cock twitch at the realization that Jaskier’s noise was in appreciation for it. Geralt doubted that Jaskier was one to study his own behavior too closely though if the next words out of his mouth were anything to go by.

“I have been blessed this day!” Jaskier cried, using his thumb to turn Geralt’s chin in his direction and capturing Geralt’s lips in a hungry kiss.

Geralt returned the kiss with equal hunger, and he leaned into Jaskier as Jaskier ran his hands down his chest until he held him by the hips. When Jaskier pulled back just enough to press their foreheads together, Geralt tried to get a hold of himself. He leaned into Jaskier’s chest even though he was capable of holding himself up, seeking Jaskier’s support anyway. 

Geralt’s entire body was alight with the way Jaskier cradled him to his body. He was fully aware of Jaskier’s callused fingertips as they stroked his hips, and the way buttons on his shirt pressed into his back.

“I must worship your body. I have to touch every inch of this splendor,” Jaskier declared, squeezing Geralt’s hips in a surprisingly tight grip. The strength hidden in Jaskier’s touch stole Geralt’s breath as he felt his stomach flip. “I want you displayed for me, so I can appreciate what’s mine. Would that please you?” 

Jaskier’s words settled right in his chest, warming him. 

“If it pleases you,” Geralt replied, his voice deep and raspy even to his own ears. It should’ve been embarrassing, but it only seemed to fuel his need for Jaskier. 

“Nothing would please me more,” Jaskier gasped, pulling Geralt into an embrace as he kissed Geralt’s rough cheek. They knelt together for a long moment, Jaskier’s thighs bracketing Geralt’s hips from behind. The rough material of his jeans brushing Geralt’s bare skin. The zipper pressing into the small of Geralt’s back told him that Jaskier was not immune to what was happening. “Let me get you settled, then I will show you life’s greatest pleasures.”

Geralt hummed, letting his body melt into Jaskier. His heartbeat thrummed in his throat as Jaskier nuzzled him. He moaned when Jaskier nipped him at the same time he ran his fingers down Geralt’s belly to tease the skin that stretched tightly over his hip bones. 

Geralt felt Jaskier’s mouth turn into a smile as he pressed his thumb into Geralt’s hip, eliciting a deep groan from Geralt.

“You sing such a pretty song,” Jaskier whispered, pressing another kiss to Geralt’s cheek, nuzzling the stubble there like it was particularly pleasurable.

The touch left Geralt in a haze of arousal which he rarely touched without some degree of punishment or pain play. He felt physically empty as Jaskier pulled away, pressing one last kiss to his shoulder before stepping away.

Jaskier’s voice kept him grounded and humming with pleasure as he moved around the room. He sang softly, and once again Geralt focused on his voice rather than the words themselves.

Geralt had never been aroused by someone’s voice before, but Jaskier’s voice pulled him in and wrapped him in something warm and soothing.

Geralt could hear Jaskier open and close the door to the room and tinker with something against the door that sounded substantial. Anticipation curled in his gut as Jaskier took his time setting up whatever it was he had in store for Geralt.

It was a sudden and uncomfortable realization that Geralt didn’t care what Jaskier had in store for him. He would surrender to it so long as Jaskier continued to praise him. His gut twisted as he realized just how aroused he was from Jaskier’s simple attentions. He squeezed his thighs and tried to regulate his breathing as the memory of Jaskier’s touch still tingled his skin.

A gentle hand cupped his jaw, and Geralt made a strangled sound. He hadn’t heard Jaskier approach, but he still melted into the unexpected touch. 

“There he is, my beautiful wolf.” Jaskier’s voice was like honey, sweet and thick. “I want you to stand, and I am going to guide you to the door,” Jaskier said, taking Geralt’s hand and helping him to his feet. He didn’t immediately pull Geralt in the direction of the door. Instead, he waited as Geralt shifted his hips until they popped and his knees stopped protesting the change in position. Geralt took the first step, and only then did Jaskier guide him. “I have a sling set up. I’m going to guide you to sit on it. Then you will let me secure your arms and legs.”

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed, leaning into Jaskier still seeking his steady presence.

“Going to spread you open and cherish you,” Jaskier whispered in his ear. “I’ll have the White Wolf all to myself.”

Jaskier stopped Geralt with an arm around his waist. 

Geralt waited patiently, feeling that hazy peace return.

Jaskier placed his hands on Geralt’s hips and guided him to turn around before pushing him back a step.

Geralt felt the seat of the sling against his ass. He waited, and he felt Jaskier press their chests together as he reached around him.

“I’m going to guide you into it now,” Jaskier said against Geralt’s ear as he took Geralt’s hip in one hand.

A shiver ran up Geralt’s spine at the combination of Jaskier words, his breath on Geralt’s neck, and the firm way he guided Geralt onto his toes then back onto the seat. The apparatus was secure enough that it didn’t even shift at his added weight.

Jaskier hummed the tune from earlier as he guided the handles into Geralt’s hands, pressing a kiss to his knuckles as Geralt gripped them. It settled Geralt, and it took him a moment to catch up as Jaskier guided his first leg into one of the leg straps.

Geralt growled as Jaskier adjusted the stap until his leg was held aloft, knee bent comfortably over the stap. 

“Don’t be shy,” Jaskier tutted, patting Geralt’s thigh lightly.

Geralt would’ve blushed if that was something he’d ever experienced. Instead, his gut twisted as Jaskier guided his other leg into the other strap and adjusted it until that leg was raised as well.

He had some sense of what he looked like. He’d put a number of sub in this exact position, and he knew exactly how vulnerable he was in it. That knowledge only made him ache more.

“Gosh you are stunning. I would like you to keep your legs spread for me. Think you can do that?” 

Geralt shuddered as fingertips brushed his inner thighs, guiding them apart with no pressure at all.

“Can you do that for me?”

Geralt was going to say no. He wouldn’t hold himself open to Jaskier’s scrutiny. However, Jaskier began to hum again, continuing to touch his skin with light and tender brushes. Geralt’s thoughts quieted, and he sighed.

“Yes.”

“My beautiful wolf,” Jaskier praised, placing his palms on Geralt’s thighs and leaning it to press a kiss to the center of his chest before pressing his forehead there.

Geralt could both feel and hear Jaskier as he hummed against Geralt’s skin, sending pulses of arousal straight to his cock.

“Where to begin with you…” Jaskier said before pulling away.

Geralt groaned as soft lips pressed against his right nipple and callused fingers found his left. Sparks flooded his belly when Jaskier took his nipple in his mouth and suckled it. He held Geralt firmly by the hip, grounding him as his spine tingled and his mouth went dry.

Jaskier’s teeth worried at his pebbled flesh, and Geralt groaned and shifted in the sling.

“I love the sounds you make when you aren’t holding back,” Jaskier said, releasing his nipple to the cool air of the room which only heightened his arousal.

Geralt was slowly sinking back into the pleasurable haze that came with such vulnerability. His skin buzzed just on the right side of too sensitive. His cock ached, and the rest of him was so focused on Jaskier he could track his pulse from several feet away.

“Your legs would make the greatest sculptors salivate,” Jaskier said, running his fingertips from the juncture of Geralt’s hips down to his ankles.

Geralt bit his lips as he balanced how Jaskier’s words made him uncomfortably warm with the desire for more if it meant Jaksier would continue to touch him. It was a heady balance that had all of his nerve endings firing pleasurably.

“And those hips. I would hold them forever were I able. Forget food or drink. I would be sustained with the knowledge that I held something so divine. The gods themselves would ache with envy.”

Geralt moaned as Jaskier’s hands gripped his hips and ground his own hips into his groin. He shook as his cock brushed the rough material of Jaskier’s jeans. His hips stuttered in Jaskier’s firm grasp, trying to get more pressure from Jaskier.

“That cock. Words are not enough to do it justice.”

Geralt cried out as Jaskier pulled away swiftly only for his groin to be replaced by his wet lips wrapping around the head of Geralt’s cock. 

Lightning shot up his spine, and fire pooled in his belly as Jaskier took him deeply. 

Jaskier’s hand cupped his balls, massaging and squeezing just enough to drive Geralt wild. 

“Sing for me,” Jaskier commanded, pulling off just long enough to take Geralt’s testicles in his mouth and hum.

“Fuck,” Geralt cried as he felt his entire body convulse with the vibrations against his most sensitive skin. 

Jaskier didn’t let up, wrapping a hand around Geralt’s cock and jerking him firmly with slick fingers as he continued to lick and suck at his balls.

Geralt gripped the handles of the sling until his knuckles had to be white, and his thighs shook as he held his legs open to Jaskier.

As Geralt teetered on the edge of orgasm, Jaskier pulled away with a satisfied groan. 

“You taste mmm…” he trailed off in a pleased hum. 

Geralt shifted his hips to draw attention to his aching cock, hoping Jaskier would finish the deed, but Jaskier would not be rushed.

“If you could see yourself... _stunning_. Your legs trembling with pleasure. Your chest heaving and covered in sweat. I will not forget this moment for as long as I breathe. The White Wolf spread before me, a feast for the eyes and the soul itself. You know...I want you to see. It would be selfish of me to keep this to myself. Will you be okay if I remove the blindfold?” Jaskier asked, running slick fingers over Geralt’s cheek.

“Yes.” He hardly recognized his own voice it was so destroyed.

“Thank you,” Jaskier whispered against Geralt’s ear before reaching back and untying the blindfold. “I want you to keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“My perfect wolf,” Jaskier praised, pulling the blindfold away.

Geralt kept his eyes closed as asked, but the anticipation added another layer to his arousal, and he felt his cock dripping.

“My gorgeous wolf,” Jaskier whispered, placing kisses down Geralt’s chest and stomach, nuzzling the soft white hair above his cock, then licking over his pulsing cock.

Strong hands held Geralt’s inner thighs as warm breaths puffed against his twitching cock.

“Open for me, Wolf,” Jaskier commanded.

Geralt opened his eyes just as Jaskier took him into his mouth. Geralt groaned as he saw Jaskier kneeling between his suspended legs, holding him open and swallowing his cock.

It was enough that Geralt felt his entire world shift as his senses kicked up and his whole body began to shudder. He held Jaskier’s gaze as the fire in his belly overflowed and the lightning beneath his skin became a raging storm. His balls tightened, and he spilled as Jaskier pulled off.

Geralt roared as he watched his come paint Jaskier’s lips, throat, and the triangle of chest hair peeking out of the top of his shirt where it wasn’t buttoned all the way. His chest heaved as waves of pleasure continued to crash over him as Jaskier continued to stroke him and massage his balls.

“I have witnessed perfection in your surrender,” Jaskier said, his voice shaky and stunned sounding. His chest was heaving as well. 

Jaskier stopped stroking him before it could become too much. However, he didn’t move away as he pressed gentle kisses to Geralt’s shaking thighs.

“I am at a loss for words. I am afraid that you have broken me,” Jaskier said, nuzzling Geralt’s thigh. “You may have also embarrassed me.”

Geralt wasn’t sure what he meant by that until Jaskier brought the hand that hadn’t been touching Geralt through his orgasm up to show him. It was covered in come which Geralt could only assume was Jaskier’s. 

“I ask for control then show none myself,” Jaskier said, ears going red. “But, I defy any man who would think they could watch you fall apart in their hands and not lose control.” 

Geralt’s entire body continued to buzz, and his brain was in a post orgasm haze that felt like he was floating. He didn’t say anything to Jaskier’s admission, but it added a dose of pride to his buzz.

When Jaskier began to hum again, Geralt felt the last tendrils of tension slip free of his body, and he sagged in the sling.

“Shh, I’ll take care of you,” Jaskier whispered, rising to his feet and guiding Geralt’s arms around him. 

Jaskier stood over him, embracing him and cradling his head against the crook of his neck for a long time. Finally, as Geralt’s heart began to slow again, he used one hand to lower and release Geralt’s legs while the other held him securely.

“Can you stand?” Jaskier asked, continuing to hold him in place.

“Not long.”

“To the bed then.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier helped him stand, and he took more than a little of Geralt’s weight as they walked to the bed. Jaskier eased him down onto the soft bedding and pressed a kiss to his hair.

“I’m going to get you some water. When I come back, I want to know what you need from me,” Jaskier said, pressing one more kiss to his sweaty temple then left the room.

Geralt sat, body humming pleasantly and mind blessedly blank. That had been far more intense than it had any right to be, and he knew despite his every intention to leave now he wasn’t in any condition to leave. He ignored the voice in the back of his head that told him he didn’t want to leave either.

Geralt was almost fully in a meditative state when Jaskier came back holding two water bottles. 

“Cold or room temp,” Jaskier said, holding up one then the other.

Geralt pointed to the warmer bottle, and Jaskier opened it for him before placing it in his hand. Geralt sipped slowly, enjoying the way he could feel it filling him.

“What do you need?”

“Quiet, not lights...privacy,” Geralt said, not prepared to share the vulnerability that came after a scene. He may have wanted to curl up with Jaskier more than anything, but he wasn’t prepared for the implications of that. He also knew from experience that any wrong move could set off his hypersensitive body right now. 

“I’ll take the candles to the living room, and you can have the room as long as you need. Just call for me or come to the living room when you’re ready.” Jaskier didn’t seek another kiss as he went to the three candles that were lit and managed to carry them all out of the room.

Geralt had just laid down on Jaskier’s bed when Jaskier came back and closed the door without a word. 

Staring up at the ceiling, Geralt let himself fall into mediation as his body can down from what had been more stimulation than he’d had in a long time. Scenes were a cleansing act, wiping away the negative sensations that built up with repeated exposure. Afterward, he always felt wrung out but also light and empty.

After a long time he slowly came back to himself. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t fall asleep in Jaskier’s bed. Slowly, he rose to his feet and looked around the room. There was a bottle of lube on the carpet, beside a small stain that spoke of Jaskier’s crumbling control at the end. The sling still hung on the back of the door, sending a shiver down his spine at the image it called to mind. 

Taking one last steadying breath, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The carpet was too rough under his feet as he walked out into the living room. He could hear the TV going from the bedroom, so it was no surprise to find Jaskier sitting on the couch.

Jaskier smiled at him, but he looked uncertain again. Geralt cringed because he knew he was the reason Jaskier had lost that carefree confidence he’d had during the scene by retreating for almost an hour. Geralt had been about to tell him he planned to head out, but he kept his mouth closed and walked over to the couch.

Geralt reminded himself that he wasn’t the only one with needs after what they’d done. Jaskier might not have asked for it, but Geralt had a feeling he required closeness after a scene. The man was extremely tactile in and out of scenes, so it would make sense that he’d need touch as aftercare which wasn’t the easiest thing for Geralt to give...but he could try.

Jaskier held open the larger blanket he had draped over himself, and Geralt went and settled between his legs with his head resting on Jaskier’s chest. The cotton of Jaskier’s shirt was soft from plenty of washes, and it was soothing rather than irritating. He’d clearly changed into something more comfortable after their scene.

“You okay if I touch your hair?” Jaskier asked softly, lowering the volume on the television.

“Mm.” Geralt closed his eyes as Jaskier’s fingers found their way into his hair, combing it gently. It felt nice. That warm feeling in his belly slowly grew again, though it wasn’t sexual this time—just a feeling of contentment.

“If you aren’t a fan of The Real Housewives of Redania, I can change the channel,” Jaskier offered quietly.

“Not paying attention. Watch what you like.”

“I wouldn’t say I like—”

Geralt snorted. Jaskier clearly liked it. 

Jaskier tugged his hair gently for the impertinence, but not hard enough to make him uncomfortable. It was worth it.

“This is nice,” Jaskier said after a while, and Geralt just hummed because he was half asleep and floating again. It was nice though. Everything about Jaskier was nice.


	5. You Need a Nap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end of chapter for chapter specific warnings.

Jaskier smiled as he ran his fingers through Geralt’s hair. He was surprised by how soft it was. It sifted through his fingers like silk and fell over Geralt’s face and shoulders. For his part, Geralt didn’t complain, even humming when Jaskier scratched at his scalp.

“This is nice.”

“Mm.”

Jaskier felt Geralt hum against his chest more than he heard it, but it was pleasant all the same. Jaskier could feel the tension bleeding out of his body as they laid there on the couch. Geralt’s weight was comforting, like a weighted blanket that just so happened to hum and grumble when someone on the television said something particularly outrageous. Maybe it was when Jaskier said something outrageous, but he’d blame it on the television.

“I don’t know why I watch this after a scene. It’s ridiculous, but it’s comforting in a way,” Jaskier admitted, burying his fingers in the hair at the base of Geralt’s skull and scratching his scalp.

Geralt’s throat rumbled like a big cat’s as Jaskier scratched him, and Jaskier smiled. Geralt was even more comforting than reality television.

“I came home after my first scene, and my college roommate was watching this as I curled up in bed, and I guess it just stuck.”

“Makes sense. Yen always asks for apple juice after a scene,” Geralt mumbled, tucking his arms around Jaskier’s body and up under his t-shirt. 

Jaskier gasped softly as he felt Geralt’s callused hands slide up his back until they were tucked just beneath his shoulder blades. He tried not to wiggle at how intimate the position was, but Geralt didn’t seem to be coherent enough to be making advances. Not that Jaskier was against advances. He just didn’t know where they stood, especially with Geralt’s claims that this was a one time affair. He just didn’t want to get his poor hopes up only for them to be dashed. However, Geralt’s hands were big and warm and protective, and Jaskier’s hopes didn’t stand a chance.

“Yen makes you get her apple juice afterward?” Jaskier asked, trying to distract himself from the fact that he was cocooned in Geralt’s embrace, and it was making his heart do gymnastics in his chest.

Geralt snorted. “I had to break into the bar the first time because she didn’t keep it on hand. I brought it with me after that.”

Jaskier laughed until his sides hurt, and then he wiggled as Geralt’s hands soothed over his shaking sides before returning to their place beneath his shoulder blades.

“I can just see you breaking into the tavern in just leggings and setting off the alarm for apple juice.”

Geralt made a grumbling sound that only made Jaskier laugh harder. “Was in leather pants and a harness.”

Jaskier was crying. Tears were streaking down his cheeks as he pictured gruff, leather-wearing Geralt on a mission for apple juice of all things. “Oh, I must tease her about this.”

Geralt snorted. “Good luck with that. It’s common knowledge anyway.”

“I suppose you’re right. On the bright side, Ciri loves apple juice, so no one likely has to break into the tavern to go retrieve it anymore,” Jaskier said, wiping away a tear before bringing his fingers back to Geralt’s hair.

“Knowing Yen, she’d probably still make them go down for it.”

“Oh goodness, when it’s right in the refrigerator beside the peanut butter.”

“That’s Ciri’s apple juice.”

“Yes, of course, not Yen’s apple juice after flaying a man’s ass.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he looked down at Geralt who was still lying there with his eyes closed, looking as though he had never been more comfortable despite being half draped over Jaskier and the couch.

“I can’t believe you left me your number,” Jaskier said, cringing immediately at how it sounded.

“You were intriguing.”

“Says the most mysterious man to walk into the bar in years.”

“Hmm.”

“I mean, wow, your just... _ wow _ .” Jaskier knew he was only seconds away from his tongue getting away from him, and he had little ability to stop it now that it had a mind to get going. “You’re hair is the softest thing I’ve ever felt, and I have a whole collection of silk boxers.”

“Ciri insists I condition it.”

“You mean Yennefer?”

“Hmm, but she has Ciri bring the conditioner because she knows I won’t say no to Ciri.”

“Yes, she does that doesn’t she? Like sending Ciri to take Girl Scout cookie orders right before my scene.”

Geralt snorted.

“Right. Well, the conditioner is working because I could run my fingers through it all day.”

“Okay.”

Jaskier wasn’t sure if that was a dismissal or an agreement that Jaskier should continue to touch him, but he chose to take it as agreement. He continued to pet Geralt quickly for a whole minute before he got going again.

“And your muscles. When I had you naked in there. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

“Mm.”

Jaskier’s filter only continued to disintegrate, and Geralt hardly responded with anything other than the odd hum, until a light snore broke through Jaskier’s ode to Geralt’s thighs which he thought was quite poetic until it was interrupted. 

“Oh, you’ve...you fell asleep...on top of me. I suppose I had nowhere to go,” Jaskier said, looking down at Geralt’s sleeping features. The lines in his forehead had smoothed out, and if he was handsome before, it was simply unfair how handsome he was as he slept.

“It’s okay. You need this. This...this is really nice actually,” Jaskier mumbled as he pulled the blanket up to cover Geralt’s bare shoulders. “This is really nice.” Jaskier told himself this was for Geralt’s benefit, but he was melting beneath Geralt. It had been ages since he’d gotten this type of contact after a scene, and it was addicting. He wasn’t sure he could go back to warm goodbyes then a glass of wine in bed while watching the Real Housewives of Redania. 

It stopped being really nice after about an hour when Geralt shifted a little in his sleep, and his shifting created friction against Jaskier’s groin where his legs were spread to accommodate Geralt. He’d been dozing lightly, but as soon as Geralt began to shift, he was wide awake.

Jaskier awkwardly looked down at the man still sleeping on top of him. There was no way to adjust himself without waking him, and just leaving it wasn’t exactly fixing the problem, especially now that his traitorous cock got a taste of what he’d denied it during their scene.

“Don’t do this to me now. I’ve already done the unforgivable and called his chest hair a sexy animal pelt while he may or may not still have been conscious,” Jaskier whispered to himself.

Geralt made a soft snuffling sound and shifted again.

“Oh... _ fuck _ ,” Jaskier groaned as Geralt’s shifting only made his cock harden further. His belly twisted, and he bit his lip as Geralt’s arms flexed, pulling him impossibly closer. “This is very unfair.” Jaskier actually whimpered as Geralt settled down again, shifting back and forth slightly. 

Jaskier tried to will his arousal away, but his body wasn’t stupid. It knew exactly the type of prime Grade A beef that was crushing it lovingly. There was no self control to be had here, only sweet suffering.

Jaskier’s hips twitched, and his eyes widened as it created a brilliant little spark that went straight up his spine. 

“This is not okay,” he mumbled, balling his hands into fists.

“Your cock is trying to burrow a hole through my chest,” Geralt said in a sleep roughened voice.

“You're awake...I am so sorry.” Jaskier gasped, feeling all of the tension bleed out of him as Geralt confronted him. Thankfully, he didn’t sound angry about it.

“Why?”

“It seems a bit rude.”

“I’m the one who fell asleep on you,” Geralt mumbled, shifting but making no move to get up. 

“Do you intend to stay where you are and torment me? Have a little revenge for before?” Jaskier asked, amazed that Geralt wasn’t up and on the other side of the couch by now.

“Wasn’t really thinking about torment,” Geralt mumbled, pulling his arms free, so he could push himself up.

Jaskier immediately missed the way they held him securely, but that thought was quickly forgotten as he watched Geralt kneel between his legs. Geralt was still completely naked, and Jaskier could see that he wasn’t the only one who’d been affected by their position.

“Right. No torment.”

Geralt gave him a look that asked all of the right questions, and Jaskier nodded enthusiastically, waving Geralt right back into his arms. Geralt smiled, taking the invitation and bracing himself over Jaskier’s body. 

Jaskier groaned as Geralt pressed their hips together, grinding against him in sensual rolls of his hips. Jaskier brought his arms up to wrap around Geralt’s neck.

Geralt growled, burying his face in Jaskier’s neck and nipping him then sucking a bruise into his neck. It was the sort of thing Jaskier would never allow in a scene, but it was driving him up a wall like this. 

“I’m already precariously close to laundry day, Geralt. If you ruin another pair of my pants—”

Geralt pulled back and yanked the lounge pants down Jaskier’s thighs in a swift motion that left Jaskier gasping as he watched his pants go flying across the room. Geralt studied him for a moment, his lips turning up in the barest hint of a smile. 

Jaskier didn’t have time to get self conscious about the scrutiny because Geralt was on him again. Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt, holding him close as they both ground against each other. 

It was frantic and needy, and it probably wasn’t very dignified for two grown men, but Jaskier felt like a magnet snapped together with Geralt. It wasn’t an attraction he had the power to control.

Geralt tugged his t-shirt up his belly, and Jaskier bit his lip as Geralt completely stripped that away too. Geralt looked down at him with an expression that Jaskier couldn’t read, but Geralt gently ran his palm down his chest, combing his fingers through the hair there before cradling his hip and guiding Jaskier’s legs around his hips. 

Jaskier hoped that the neighbors weren’t outside because his curtains weren’t closed anymore. Only one was half shut, so the sun didn’t create a glare against the television. Other than that, anyone could walk by and see this. His thoughts were quickly stolen though when Geralt pinched one of his nipples.

Moaning at the sensation, Jaskier focused his attention on Geralt. Their cocks continued to slide together creating a mind-blowing friction. Jaskier reached up to tug lightly at Geralt's hair, and it earned him a hoarse groan and a stutter in his rhythm. 

“Yes, love your voice,” Jaskier encouraged before pulling Geralt to him for a hungry kiss.

Geralt’s hand wrapped around both of the cocks, and Jaskier felt fire in his belly as he bucked into Geralt’s touch. 

Jaskier’s hands groped at Geralt, and he continued to speak encouragement as he got closer and closer to the edge at a frankly embarrassing speed. Geralt didn’t seem any better as he panted against Jaskier’s lips and into the crook of his neck.

Jaskier cried out when Geralt’s free hand slipped beneath his hips and lifted them, and Geralt guided him up onto his thighs as he knelt on the couch. Jaskier continued gripping Geralt tightly as he began to bounce on his thighs, grinding even closer to Geralt.

Geralt’s strong arms held him securely as he let Jaskier take control. He guided Jaskier’s hand between them to take over, and he cradled him protectively as Jaskier stroked them.

Jaskier was close, and he could hardly catch his breath as he stripped their cocks. Both of them were leaking precome dramatically by that point.

Jaskier cried out as Geralt suddenly fell back and draped himself across the cushions. Jaskier fell forward from the momentum, and Geralt lifted him by the hips and brought him up to his face.

“Want to taste you,” Geralt growled.

Jaskier nearly passed out as he immediately offered his cock to Geralt. He groaned as geralt didn’t hesitate to take him in his mouth, his tongue teasing his sensitive head as he went. Jaskier had to brace himself on the arm of the couch with his one leg braced on the floor, otherwise he surely would have fallen. 

Geralt’s mouth was a revelation, and he wished he wasn’t so close to the edge because he wanted this to last. Geralt continued to hold his hips securely, keeping Jaskier balanced above him as he encouraged Jaskier to ride him.

“Geralt...close,” Jaskier warned, running his fingers through his hair, and leaving it in complete disarray. He gripped the back of the couch, still not trusting himself not to tip right over from the pleasure he felt.

For his part, Geralt didn’t seem the least bit surprised by the warning, and he only encouraged Jaskier more.

Jaskier rocked his hips, thrusting into Geralt's mouth. He groaned as he watched his cock press between those gorgeous lips.

It was too much. Jaskier felt it in his spine right before he felt his balls tighten, and then it was all over. He cried out as his whole body shook and he spilled into Geralt’s mouth, whimpering when Geralt swallowed around him, wringing out another wave of pleasure.

Jaskier felt boneless as he came back down, collapsing forward onto the arm of the couch and groaning. He peeked down at Geralt, who was still holding him steady, and he had to close his eyes again. 

Geralt’s lips were puffy, and he had a smear of come and spit on his chin that was truly a work of art. 

Gently, Gealt lifted him up and slipped out from beneath him before pulling Jaskier into his arms again. 

“That was thoroughly worth any embarrassment about poking you with my boner,” Jaskier said, patting Geralt’s thigh. “But I didn’t get you off.” Jaskier realized it as he said it, and he looked down at Geralt’s erection which hadn’t flagged at all.

Geralt just shrugged. “Thought you might want to…” he shrugged again. 

Jaskier followed. “You mean another scene? Only if you’re up for it. It doesn’t have to be a scene. It can just be sex...unless you need…”

“Don’t need,  _ want _ ,” Geralt assured him. “Doesn’t have to be much. Anything you want to do. Just focus me.”

Jaskier’s mouth fell open at the request. “Of course...I can definitely focus you. Come on,” he said, getting up and taking Geralt’s hand. He didn’t even glance in the direction of the front window as they both walked across the living room completely naked.

They entered the bedroom again, and Jaskier turned to Geralt and kissed him softly. “How about a blindfold, and maybe some restraints. That way you’re secure, and you can just focus on me?”

“Hmm,” Geralt nodded.

“Wonderful. Just stay there for a moment while I get the bed set up,” Jaskier said. He walked over to the bed and grabbed the blindfold from earlier and handed it to Geralt before going to the chest by his bed and retrieving his restraints. He had a system set up with his bed to attach them to, so they were secure. He got them attached in record time, and when he turned around, he caught Geralt watching his ass. “Enjoying the view?” he teased.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier shook his head but he beckoned Geralt forward. He accepted the blindfold from Geralt’s hands, and pressed a kiss to his lips before covering Geralt’s eyes with the soft leather again. He secured it and made sure that it wasn’t tugging at Geralt’s hair before pressing another kiss to Geralt's cheek.

This scene felt different but no less important. Geralt was giving himself freely to Jaskier’s hands, and Jaskier knew that wasn’t a gift that could be overlooked. It was a staggering level of trust.

Jaskier pulled back and took Geralt’s hand in his own again, and he gently pulled Geralt to the bed and ordered him to settle on top of it. Then he followed him onto the covers and set about securing Geralt’s hands to the headboard.

“Roll onto your belly for me.”

This time, Geralt hesitated, and Jaskier almost cheered at the momentary display of disobedience. Jaskier leaned down and pressed a kiss to his shoulder rather than reprimand him.

“I promise, all you need to say is red, and I will release you, but what I have planned for you is worth the vulnerability,” he said softly, stroking Geralt’s arm soothingly.

“Hmm.” Geralt rolled onto his stomach and settled in.

“You are so good,” Jaskier praised, and he was surprised to see a small smile appear on Geralt’s lips. He bit his bottom lip, filing away the knowledge that Geralt was not immune to praise.

“I’m going to secure your arms and legs. Remember, just say the magic word, and I’ll free you as fast as humanly possible.” Jaskier kept his tone soft and soothing as he took first one wrist and then the other and guided them up to the restraints.

Jaskier trailed his fingers over Geralt’s arms, down his back, and over his legs before securing his ankles as well. Then he stepped away from the bed to gather his massage oils. He continued to talk softly, anything that came to his head really. 

Studying his selection of oils, Jaskier picked one of his favorites. It was more for sore muscles and relaxation rather than for erotic massage, but Jaskier thought that would fit Geralt more than some highly perfumed warming oil. This one had a very light scent of chamomile and lavender, and it absorbed fast enough that Geralt wouldn’t need a shower directly afterward. Though that did sound pleasant as well.

Geralt was lying patiently on the bed when Jaskier turned around. His head was turned in Jaskier’s direction as though listening to his rambles, and Jaskier had to pause just to appreciate him.

“Lovely,” he said softly, watching the way every breath lifted Geralt’s shoulders. His eyes followed the stunning peaks and valleys of Geralt’s back. 

Jaskier adjusted himself in his pants, willing his body to behave. The fact that he was hard for the third time today was testament to Geralt’s charms. Geralt  _ was  _ mouth-wateringly stunning, but Jaskier had a job to do.

Settling into himself, Jaskier focused on what he wished to do for Geralt. He let his mind map out exactly how he would take Geralt apart, finding it brought him peace and confidence.

“Tell me if you don’t like this,” Jaskier said, placing a drop of the oil on the inside of his wrist and bringing it close enough to Geralt’s face for him to smell it without being overpowered by it.

Geralt was quiet for several seconds, breathing normally. Jaskier waited patiently, continuing to hold his wrist close but not too close to him. When Geralt continued to remain silent Jaskier opened his mouth.

“Does your silence mean you don’t mind it?” he asked, realizing he’d only told Geralt to speak if he disliked it.

“Yes.”

Jaskier smiled. “Good good. It’s one of my favorites. Does miracles for sore muscles.”

Geralt didn’t say anything, and Jaskier reminded himself that he had to be careful of his words because Geralt followed directions to the letter, so misspeaking was not an option.

Jaskier climbed onto the bed and settled himself on Geralt’s ass. He grinned at the soft grumble Geralt made at the indignity of it, but he didn’t actually complain. He had a sneaking suspicion that Geralt didn’t mind his methods at all. He let his mouth ramble about how lovely Geralt’s bottom was as he got himself settled. Geralt didn’t so much as move as Jaskier rested on him.

Pouring oil onto his palm, Jaskier waited for it to warm. He ran his other hand gently over Geralt’s spine and smiled when Geralt actually shuddered. 

“Lovely,” Jaskier praised, running just his fingertips over Geralt’s spine this time. When Geralt shook even harder, he bit his lip. “I’m going to begin now. You’re going to focus on my voice as you relax your body for me.”

Jaskier rubbed his palms together before placing them on Geralt’s strong shoulders. He started with a light touch, spreading the oil over smooth skin before he began to knead. He could immediately feel how tense Geralt’s muscles were, and he let himself fall into the methodical process of working the knots out of Geralt’s body.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but I promise I will get you to relax. Just breathe slowly for me, and I’ll help you.”

It was soothing to know his hands could bring pleasure and relaxation. Taking care of his subs was his greatest pleasure, and he loved finding the perfect way to slowly tear down their walls and care for them. Geralt wasn’t too hard to figure out either. Just the way he reacted to Jaskier’s every touch told Jaskier that he craved it. Touch starved or affection starved.

“Hmm.” Geralt actually hummed as Jaskier worked on a particularly hard knot in his lower back. His fingers worked with a mind of their own as Jaskier continued to speak softly about anything that came to mind. 

He knew it bothered some subs, but Jaskier didn’t know how to stop it. Geralt didn’t seem to care one way or the other though, so he let his tongue continue shifting between praise and non sequiturs. 

“The masters would have killed to have you as their muse. You could inspire an entire renaissance on your own.” Jaskier lifted his hands and cracked his knuckles before going back to work. 

As Geralt’s back began to loosen up, the man slowly began to make soft noises or move slightly like he was finally settling in. Jaskier smiled as he felt Geralt’s walls falling beneath his skilled fingers.

“How does that feel?”

“Nice.” His voice was relaxed, and Jaskier could tell he was sinking into the scene thoroughly.

Jaskier took that as high praise from someone as reserved as Geralt. “I will have you melting into the mattress yet,” Jaskier said, moving himself down Geralt’s thighs and beginning to knead his ass. He had to hold in his own moan as he touched the man’s body, but Geralt didn’t hold in his.

Geralt groaned as Jaskier kneaded his cheeks firmly, pausing only to pour more oil onto his fingers. 

“You like that, my wolf?”

“Mm.”

Grinning Jaskier gave Geralt’s ass one final squeeze before moving to his thighs. Geralt didn’t hold himself still as Jaskier massaged his legs. 

Jaskier devoured every soft gasp and breathy groan that Geralt made as Jaskier worked the muscles in his legs. He was awestruck by how beautifully Geralt fell apart for him. A caring touch and the fiercest man he’d ever met was making the most beautiful sounds of pleasure he’d ever heard.

Geralt’s calves were like bricks, and Jaskier told him so as his thumbs ached with each knot he slowly worked out. Geralt groaned each time Jaskier dug his fingers in, and he sighed as his muscles slowly eased up.

Jaskier fell into the methodical way he worked out each knot, letting it pull him into the calm headspace reserved for only the best scenes. He felt completely aware of Geralt and his body while feeling separate from his often racing thoughts.

“Look at you,” Jaskier sighed as he finally reached Geralt’s feet, gently massaging them as he took in Geralt’s relaxed body. To the casual observer, Jaskier knew Geralt wouldn’t have looked any different than before, but he could see how much tension had vanished from Geralt’s form.

Jaskier pressed a kiss to Geralt’s ankle before standing from the bed and going to the chest at the bottom of the bed. He removed a lubricant before returning to Geralt and settling between his spread thighs.

“You don’t strain against your bindings,” Jaskier said, running his fingertips over Geralt’s thighs. 

Geralt didn’t speak, nor did he move. Jaskier wasn’t expecting him to. He had promised to lay himself at Jaskier’s mercy, and Jaskier may not have known him long, but he knew he was a man of his word. 

“What would I have to do to get you to squirm?” Jaskier brought his hands up just beneath Geralt’s ass and pinched the flesh there. Still Geralt didn’t move. The man never failed to impress.

“I have an idea. Even if it doesn’t make you squirm, I think it is a lovely idea,” Jaskier said, beginning to tease Geralt’s thighs with his fingertips once again. “You look so lovely like this. I never want to let you go, but that isn’t how this works, and I will just have to make the best of our time.”

Jaskier continued to lament the finite quality of scenes as he opened the bottle of lubricant and poured some onto his fingers. He made sure that his index finger was coated before kneading Geralt’s ass with his dry hand.

Geralt sighed, but didn’t move as Jaskier slowly kneaded the supple flesh of his ass. Once Geralt was fully relaxed, he ran his slick finger down the cleft of his ass. That earned him a squirm. It wasn’t big, but it was enough that he knew he had Geralt’s full attention.

“What did I say? A lovely idea, no?”

Geralt hummed, but didn’t say anything else.

Jaskier smiled as he used that slick finger to tease Geralt’s hole even as his other hand continued to massage Geralt’s ass, thighs, and lower back. He wanted Geralt relaxed, pliant, able to enjoy this fully. 

Slowly, Jaskier edged his finger into Geralt, carefully studying the man’s reaction. However, Geralt relaxed around the intrusion, letting Jaskier do as he pleased. Jaskier frowned a little. The man was blindfolded, restrained, and now penetrated, and he lay there completely still. 

Biting his lip, Jaskier wrestled with himself about whether to stop. Was Geralt actually enjoying this or was Jaskier taking advantage of how obedient a sub he was. Once again, he was reminded that Geralt was known as a Dom breaker, and he knew this was why.

“You don’t just have to tell me when things are un-fine. You can tell me when they aren’t good either. I know perhaps that is not how your scenes usually work, but this isn’t a test or anything.,” Jaskier told him, pulling his finger free and soothing Geralt’s ass with his palm.

“Mm, I know.”

“So, this is good.”

“Was that a question?”

“Yes, I suppose it was.”

“This is good,” Geralt confirmed, finally moving to adjust himself on the bed.

Jaskier brightened. “Excellent because your body...just wow.” Jaskier spread Geralt’s cheeks and without stopping to second guess himself, he leaned forward and pressed his lips between Geralt’s spread cheeks. 

That got Geralt’s attention, and when Jaskier tongue slipped out to tease the tight pucker of his hole, Geralt  _ squirmed _ . It wasn’t subtle or relaxed. The man’s hips jerked, and his whole body shuddered as Jaskier dragged his tongue over Geralt’s rim.

“Now this, this is divine,” Jaskier proclaimed, coming up just long enough to bestow praise before burying his tongue in Geralt’s ass again. He pressed his tongue into Geralt, basking in the sound it ripped free of Geralt’s throat. “Yes, don’t hold back. I love your voice.” Jaskier encouraged him as he pulled away a second time.

Geralt’s hands fisted in Jaskier’s sheets as Jaskier spread him wide and pressed his tongue as deeply as it would go. He could feel the jolt that traveled up Geralt’s spine, and he pulled his tongue back only to press it in again. He treasured the way Geralt shook before going boneless.

Jaskier could feel the high of knowing he was fully in control and that his sub was thoroughly taken care of. There was no resistance from Geralt, not even a reluctance to moan or groan at what pleased him. Jaskier lost himself in the act of wringing each breathy groan out of Geralt’s lungs. He cherished the way Geralt’s body welcomed him, never tensing or denying him. He got drunk on the tremors he could feel every time his mouth licked into Geralt’s body. 

Divine did not even begin to cover it. However, Jaskier’s mouth was too occupied to properly articulate exactly how wondrous this experience was. 

Geralt’s own moans seemed to paint a pretty vivid image. His body quaked, and his hips only remained against the bedding because Jaskier held them there. He seemed completely overcome by Jaskier’s tongue.

Jaskier slowly slipped a finger in alongside his tongue, and the hoarse sound that was wrenched from Geralt’s mouth went straight to Jaskier’s cock. It was filthy and desperate, and Jaskier relished it.

Pressing a second finger in along with his tongue, Jaskier was certain that Geralt was on the brink of orgasm. He didn’t warn him off. He didn’t demand control. He wanted Geralt to fall apart, to submit to his own needs and pleasure. He needed it more than his next breath.

So, on his next thrust, he curled his fingers forward—seeking.

He knew when he found what he was looking for. Geralt’s back bowed before his entire body seemed to convulse, and Jaskier had to pull back. He was mesmerized as Geralt shook uncontrollably for him as Jaskier continued to milk his prostate with his fingers. 

When Geralt shaking became more of the overstimulated variety rather than the mid-orgasm variety, he carefully pulled his fingers free. Still, Geralt jolted from the movement.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen something so beautiful in my life,” Jaskier said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as he continued to look down at Geralt in awe. “Well, maybe your last two orgasms…”

Geralt was covered in sweat, and his back rose and fell with heavy breaths. His hair was curling around his face where it was damp with sweat. He was stunning.

“Whoa...I...wow,” Jaskier mumbled, not having the proper words to say and unwilling to ruin everything with something inappropriate. “Let me get you out of these restraints, and then I’ll clean you up.”

Jaskier made quick work of Geralt’s ankle restraints, checking him once they were off. He rubbed the skin that had been covered by the restrains, but he hadn’t tugged them much and it was barely pink. Then he moved to Geralt’s wrists, unbinding them one by one before checking them and rubbing them gently.

“Any tingling?” he asked, sitting at the head of the bed, and taking one of Geralt’s arms in his lap.

“No.” Geralt’s voice was deeper and raspier than usual, and Jaskier had to will down his arousal. 

“Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll get you some water and something to clean up with,” Jaskier said, pressing a kiss to Geralt’s knuckles before getting up.

Jaskier pressed his palm to his groin as he walked down the hallway to the kitchen. He let out a soft moan once he was far enough away that Geralt wouldn’t hear. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Geralt to know he was aroused or see evidence of it. He just didn’t want him to think Jaskier was expecting anything right now, especially when he looked so blissed out and relaxed. Jaskier was very  _ very  _ satisfied with his two orgasms, and he didn’t want to push Geralt after two scenes in a very short amount of time.

So, Jaskier willed himself to calm down as he collected another pair of water bottles from the fridge as well as some snacks. Jaskier was aware that he ate like an unchaperoned ten year old, but he managed to scrounge up a couple granola bars and even a protein bar he wasn’t actually sure he had purchased. He rather wished he had Girl Scout cookies on hand, but it would be several weeks before his stash was replenished by Ciri. This would just have to do.

He stopped in the bathroom on the way back and grabbed a washcloth out of the closet then wet it with hot water, knowing it would cool to the perfect temperature by the time he cleaned Geralt up.

“It isn’t much, but I’m out of cookies,” Jaskier said as he stepped back into the bedroom. 

Geralt was lying exactly where Jaskier had left him, continuing to wear the blindfold.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you with this still on. You can take it off,” He apologized, placing what he’d gathered on the bed and taking a seat beside Geralt to assist him.

“Hmm. It’s fine. I kept it on,” Geralt told him.

“Oh. Would you like to keep it for now? I can clean you up and feed you…” Jaskier tried to fight down just how much even the thought of that affected him. Suddenly, he wanted to extend their scene just to feed Geralt by hand, but it had been hours. The sun had gone down in the time they’d been playing, and while they hadn’t been his most draining scenes it had been plenty long.

“Mm.”

“Okay, then. Roll onto your back, and I’ll take care of you,” Jaskier said softly.

Jaskier fluffed up the pillows against the headboard, and he sat against them before carefully guiding Geralt to lay against his chest. He gently touched Geralt’s chest as he settled in, and Jaskier couldn’t resist placing a kiss to the soft skin of his shoulder.

“So lovely,” Jaskier praised, reaching over to pick up a water bottle. He twisted off the cap and took Geralt’s hand to guide it into his grasp. As much as feeding Geralt by hand sounded lovely, helping another drink often ended up messy. So, he let Geralt handle it himself.

“Were you able to focus?” Jaskier asked as he settled in.

“Fishing for compliments?” Geralt asked, sounding amused.

“No, just...today was _ a lot _ . Just want to make sure you got what you wanted out of it.”

“I got what I needed,” Geralt said, taking a sip from the bottle in his hand.

As Geralt drank, Jaskier picked the washcloth off the comforter where it was soaking the sheets. He frowned at the large damp spot, but ultimately he let it go. 

Jaskier bit his lip as he took in the mess he’d made of Gealt. His cock was flaccid and covered in come as was his lower belly. There was even a bit in his pubic hair, likely from grinding against the covers which were also coated in Geralt’s release. It was mouthwatering. 

Running his fingers down Geralt’s chest, he smiled when Geralt paused his drinking. As Jaskier’s fingers dared travel lower, Geralt shivered.

“You are a feast for the eyes, dear Geralt. Before today, I had not realized I was a starving man, but seeing you before me, I know that no meal has ever satisfied me as you do,” Jaskier waxed on as he dragged his fingers through Geralt’s come.

Geralt made what Jaskier assumed was an amused sound, but he didn’t question him. He also wasn’t the least bit shy about the mess he’d made which was incredibly appealing.

“I’m going to clean you now,” Jaskier warned, knowing that the blindfold had to make Geralt feel at least a little vulnerable, and he didn’t want to startle him. Geralt made an affirmative sound before taking another sip of water.

Adjusting the washcloth, Jaskier reached out and carefully wiped at the come on Geralt belly. Geralt stiffened slightly and actually shifted and almost squirmed as Jaskier wiped away all remnants of Geralt’s release. “It’s okay. You’ll be more comfortable when I’m done,” Jaskier soothed him with soft words. He pressed another kiss to Geralt’s shoulder as he reached lower to drag the cloth over Geralt’s cock in order to clean him there as well.

Geralt jolted and made a miserable sound. The water bottle went flying and hit the wall with a splatter. “Red.  _ Red _ ,” he repeated several times as Jaskier pulled away like he’d been burned. It was sudden and sharp, and Jaskier was disoriented by the jarring shift. His hands shook as he immediately dropped the cloth and moved out from behind Geralt who had thrown himself forward protectively.

“I’m sorry. What did I do wrong?” Jaskier asked, falling off the side of the bed in his haste to give Geralt space. He grunted as he hit the floor, but he quickly fumbled to his feet.

Geralt had the blindfold off and was cupping himself like Jaskier had mutilated him rather than cleaned him.

“Geralt, talk to me,” he pleaded, flapping his arms because he didn’t really know what to do with himself. It was all so sudden and unexpected, and his heart was jack-rabbiting inside his chest.

“The cloth. Sensitive,” Geralt said through gritted teeth. His hands flexed as he sat there bent in on himself, eyes shifting around the room looking for the next attack. It broke Jaskier’s heart.

“The—oh fuck. I didn’t realize it would bother you. I know, it's old and rough, and I couldn’t have spent more than a dollar on it. Was on a bit of a budget when I bought this place. Still am really. Probably should’ve bought new towels though...sorry. What can I do?” Jaskier said, getting closer again. He was shaken, but he knew he needed to get a hold of himself for Geralt’s sake. Being agitated was only going to stress Geralt further.

“I’m fine,” Geralt said, but his shoulders were still bunched, and Jaskier could practically see the tension rising off of him like steam.

“Okay, but you weren’t. Bad enough that you said red, so—”

“Just need space.” Geralt’s voice was wrecked, and it tore at Jaskier’s weak heart.

“What if I run you a bath? Would that help?”

“Not too hot,” Geralt said, sounding exhausted. Jaskier was pretty sure he was just agreeing to give Jaskier something to do, but he really wasn’t prepared to argue with Geralt.

“Not too hot,” Jaskier repeated, rising and leaving the room again. He tried not to beat himself up as he quickly began to fill the bathtub with moderately hot water. He tested it every few seconds to make sure it wasn’t too hot. He left the lights off and lit the candle on the toilet tank and the one on the vanity, so the light wasn’t too much for Geralt.

He needed to keep moving, keep doing something. Otherwise he was going to fall apart and beat himself up over the careless mistake.

Jaskier jumped when a hand gently touched his shoulder. He looked up from his place on the floor beside the tub to find Geralt watching him with soft eyes. He was shaking just enough for it to be noticeable, but Jaskier was pretty sure that he was shaking too.

Geralt was completely naked still, and his hair was in disarray. “I’m sorry.” Geralt’s voice was so soft as though he’d been the one to hurt Jaskier rather than the other way around.

“What for?” Jaskier asked, truly bewildered by the apology.

“For safewording. I don’t even know if we were still in the scene. I just—”

“Needed me to stop. Don’t apologize. You were right to use it. I’d rather stop immediately and have you explain later than waste time trying to figure out what’s wrong.” Jaskier gave him a smile, and he was pretty sure that it mirrored the exhaustion he read in Geralt’s face.

“Hmm. Thank you for the bath.”

“No problem at all. Hopefully, it isn’t too hot for you. Gave it the old elbow test.”

Geralt genuinely smiled at that. “You have kids?”

“No, no. Something I’ve picked up domming. Boiling your sub like a sexy lobster is  _ not  _ ideal.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Can I help you in any way?”

“No. Just need time.”

“Right. Right. I’ll be outside if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to ask.”

Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s sleeve as he moved past him. He pulled Jaskier close but not close enough that they were touching anywhere that Geralt wasn’t initiating it. Those intense golden eyes looked into his own before Geralt leaned in the rest of the way and pressed his lips to Jaskier’s. “Stay.” 

“Oh...I thought you’d want privacy,” Jaskier said, hating how unsure he felt and sounded.

“Stay.” 

“Yeah, okay. I’ll just sit here,” Jaskier said, returning to the spot beside the tub. 

Geralt lightly touched his shoulder again as he stepped into the water. 

Jaskier couldn’t help watching him as he carefully sat in the large soaking tub. 

Geralt hummed softly as he leaned back against the side of the tub and rested his arms along the rim of it. 

“You okay?”

“Will be.”

It wasn’t the answer Jaskier was hoping for, but he appreciated Geralt’s honesty.

“I’m sorry it ended that way. If I do say so myself, it had been going very nicely before that.”

“Hmm.” Geralt let his arms fall into the water before splashing water on his face.

Jaskier sighed, letting his own arms rest on the tub and his fingertips brush the water. He startled when wet fingers entwined with his own, but when he looked over at Geralt he had his eyes closed and a relaxed expression on his face. Jaskier smiled, resting his head on his arms and holding Geralt’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features use of safeword, sensory overload


	6. A Brokenhearted Man

“How did it go?” Yennefer asked, opening the pizza box that Geralt had brought with him.

“Hmm.”

“That isn’t even close to an answer,” she said, pulling a slice free from the pie and taking a large bite of it.

“It was not what I expected. Wasn’t like anything I’ve done in a while,” Geralt said, washing his hands before taking his own slice. Ciri was back in school, so it was just him and Yennefer for the next few hours. 

“Is that good or bad? You have to give me something here,” she teased him.

Geralt didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled a slice of pizza from the box and took a massive bite of it. Yen rolled her eyes at him as he chewed it slowly, but he didn’t let her rush him. He’d only ever gotten himself into trouble by rushing to answer her.

“He is competent.”

“Wow.” 

Geralt rolled his eyes.

“No, really. Wow. I never thought I would have heard Jaskier accused of such a thing. Competence. Are you certain you understand the meaning of the word?” she asked, walking over to the cupboard and pulling out a bottle of red pepper flakes before sprinkling it over her slice. She followed it up with a sprinkle of garlic powder.

“Hmm.”

“Fine. He’s competent, but was it worth giving your number to him?”

“My knee isn’t clicking today.”

“Seriously, Geralt, you are being purposely obtuse.”

“He gave me what I needed without aggravating old injuries,” Geralt clarified. He had plenty of old injuries that acted up, especially after scenes where he had to maintain uncomfortable positions or endure mounting punishments. It was fine during the scene. The pain was good then, but hiding a limp for a week after wasn’t as pleasant. 

“So he did what? Pet your hair for five hours and tell you how pretty you are?” She looked skeptical. Yennefer always looked skeptical about other Doms. Yennefer was one of the best Geralt had ever played with. She was commanding and had a clear vision, but she couldn’t understand others whose vision was different from hers. She was very selective about subs for this reason.

Geralt had been a mistake from that perspective, but the sex had been so good that they’d overlooked their incompatibilities for as long as the could. 

“Mm.”

Yennefer looked contemplative as she ate the rest of her slice of pizza. It was her silence that encouraged him to speak. After all these years, she still pulled words out of him without even trying.

“He knew how to focus me, reduce outside stimulants, keep my focus on him and what he was doing. It wasn’t a complicated scene, but he pulled me into it quickly, and I’m still feeling relaxed despite complications.”

“What complications?” Suddenly, Yennefer was scrutinizing him as though she missed something obvious like a missing limb as he walked in.

Geralt sighed. The woman wanted nothing to do with him for months at a time, and then she had moments like this where she sounded like she was ready to march over to Jaskier’s house and strangle him herself. All to protect Geralt.

“I got over-stimulated.”

“I thought you said he was competent!”

“He couldn’t have known it was going to happen, and it wasn’t bad. I came down quickly.”

“Why couldn’t he have known? You did tell him you have sensitivities didn’t you?”

Geralt sighed. She’d know if he lied.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell him?” Yennefer demanded, putting her food down to glare at Geralt menacingly.

“I don’t tell single time partners unless we agree on something intense or that might cause overload.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t hmm me. You have no regard for your own well being. What do you do if you can’t communicate the problem?”

“I didn’t not tell him. I gave him the list…”

“But that explains nothing! There are a thousand reasons someone might want few distractions or stimulation. Hell, some people just get confused when there is too much going on. How is he to know that you feel like your skin is being raked by shards of glass or too much going on leaves you completely disoriented? Jaskier has many admirable traits...I am told, but the ability to read minds is not one of them,” Yennefer shouted at him.

Geralt cringed at the booming quality of her voice, and she gave him a very clear I told you so look as she realized he was uncomfortable.

“I won’t tell you how to play,” she continued quietly this time. “You’ve been doing this longer than I have, but you’re playing with fire. I know how hard it is to open up with reputations like ours, but letting people only see that facade isn’t going to fix anything.”

“Hmm.”

Yennefer sighed and took another slice of pizza from the box. “Jaskier is an idiot, and a soppy romantic, and a terrible flirt...but he wouldn’t judge you.”

“Hmm. It doesn’t matter. It was a one-time thing. I’ll be gone in a day or two, and he’ll fall in love with someone new by next week if everyone’s comments are to be believed.” Geralt stood looking at his half-eaten slice of pizza. He wasn’t sure why the thought of Jaskier finding someone else so easily bothered him, but it put a damper on his appetite which was a rarity.

“Why are men like this?” She threw up her hands and rolled her eyes at him. It was a common enough occurrence that he hardly paid attention to it. “Your daughter lives here. Your brother lives here, unfortunately. You will be back. You hardly live more than an hour away, even if you have to take a plane to get to your particular part of the continent. You could be normal for once and attempt some sort of human connection.”

“I’m connected to you and Ciri.”

“Like talking to a piece of petrified wood. You’ve been set in your ways so long, you’ve turned to stone.”

Geralt didn’t argue with her. He was still closed off in many ways, but she forgot how much he’d changed since Ciri was born. He’d been completely closed off before her. He’d run his private security business and avoided people at all cost when he wasn’t working. He’d bought a house as far away from people as he could, and only ventured into civilization when he had an itch that needed scratching. 

“Geralt.”

“Hmm.”

“You aren’t eating.” She said it softly, like she was dealing with a wild animal and trying to be soothing.

“Hmm.” Geralt hated how damn observant she was when she wanted to be. 

“Geralt, if I start going gray because of you, I’m going to murder you, and then Ciri will be an orphan when they lock me away,” she said.

Geralt snorted. Clearly, that was where Ciri had gotten that line from.

Yennefer ignored him, walking over to the cabinet and removing a bottle of wine. She didn’t bother with a glass as she pulled out the stopper and took a long swig. “I want you to listen because I am only going to say this once. I know that you want to give me space, and you don’t want to insinuate yourself into our lives if you aren’t welcome, but you’ve always been welcome, Geralt. You’re the reason you live away from us, not me. You’ve chosen to seclude yourself, and I’m not saying it isn’t for a good reason, but it doesn’t have to be that way. Most of your contracts are in the city anyway, so it isn’t like you don’t spend time here. You could find a place here or stay in the spare room once in a while. You could go to parent-teacher conferences or dance lessons. You could have friends here or a relationship. You could have a life outside that little cabin you live in.”

“Hmm.” 

Yen rolled her eyes, but she didn’t force him to speak. Instead, she went and got him a beer out of the refrigerator. She popped the cap off and handed it to him. 

“I’m not saying it has to be Jaskier. I’m not saying it has to be anyone. I’m just saying that your daughter is ten years old, and you aren’t going to get this time back. Maybe it’s time to stop punishing yourself for things that aren’t your fault.”

Geralt was halfway to drunk when Ciri burst through the front door, dragging her backpack behind her by one strap like an afterthought.

“Dad!” she shouted, jumping onto his lap as he continued to sit on the recliner in Yennefer’s living room. 

“Hey, Cub,” Geralt said, running his hand through Ciri’s messy pigtails. They had undoubtedly been pristine when she’d left in the morning. Yen wouldn’t stand for anything less, but ten year olds didn’t necessarily worry about maintaining a perfect appearance throughout the day.

“I thought you were going home today,” Ciri said, burrowing against Geralt’s chest like he was a giant stuffed animal. She’d done it since she was just a baby, and it always warmed something deep inside Geralt.

“Lambert needed a couch moved, so I said I’d stay another day,” Geralt said, resting his hand on her back and pressing a kiss to her hair. He could smell the soft floral scent of her shampoo, and it made him smile. He would love getting this reaction every day, but he didn’t know how that would work. Yennefer was right, he was afraid of insinuating himself and not being welcome.

“Please tell me you moved it to the curb, because that thing was disgusting two apartments ago,” Yennefer said, coming back into the room with another beer for Geralt and another glass of wine for herself. “Do you have homework, Love?” Yen asked Ciri.

“Yeah, but Dad can help me with it,” Ciri told her, continuing to cling to Geralt’s chest. 

Geralt wondered if one day she’d outgrow this behavior, and it tugged at his chest that she wouldn’t always be this affectionate. Yennefer was constantly warning him that the teenage years were fast approaching.

“Good luck with that, Darling. I will check it for you after you and Geralt finish,” Yennefer promised, pointedly looking at the fifth beer of the day which was in Geralt’s hand.

Ciri didn’t seem terribly concerned about his ability to do fourth grade homework while inebriated though. She got off his lap and grabbed his hand to pull him in the direction of her bedroom.

Geralt got to his feet, putting the beer down on the coaster on the coffee table. He didn’t even flinch as Ciri used his arm like a pull-up bar and climbed him as he walked to her bedroom. 

Depositing her on her bed, Geralt walked back out to retrieve her backpack. Yennefer was watching him with laughing eyes, and he just rolled his own. 

“Now I see why you don’t want to live close by. You would have to retake the fourth grade,” she teased him.

“Don’t you have a business to run?”

“Sabrina is managing today.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt walked into Ciri’s room and found his daughter sitting on her bed with a serious expression. She had pulled her desk chair over to stand beside the bed, facing her.

“You okay, Ciri?” Geralt asked, placing her backpack on her bed and taking a seat in the chair she’d clearly designated for him. He felt his chest constrict at the expression on her face, and he prayed he didn’t need to murder anyone for hurting his daughter.

“We need to talk, Dad.”

“What’s wrong?” Geralt leaned forward, giving her his full attention.

Ciri studied him for a moment, and Geralt felt like his throat was closing. What if she decided that she couldn’t confide in him? What if he couldn’t give her what she needed? However, before he could beg her to speak to him, she nodded.

“Were you nice to Jaskier?” she asked, continuing to sound deathly serious.

Geralt actually did choke as a rush of air left his lungs. 

“Well?” she prompted as Geralt tried to get a hold of himself because that was the last thing he’d expected to come out of her mouth. Relief flooded him right before he realized what she was asking him.

“Yes, I was nice to Jaskier, Cub,” he said, trying not to sound completely off balance.

“Good because Jaskier’s nice, and he sneaks me sweets when mom isn’t paying attention. He’s also good at dolls. No offense, Dad, but his Stacy gives better advice than Roach,” Ciri continued with all of the seriousness a ten year old could muster.

“No one gives better advice than Roach,” Geralt grumbled.

“Stacy would know you can’t go horseback riding in platform boots.”

“Roach didn’t want to hurt Betsy’s feelings.” Geralt wasn’t sure why he was having this argument with his daughter, but it was better than talking about relationships with her, especially his own.

“Sometimes you have to be honest even if people don’t want to hear it.”

Geralt blinked at her. “Who taught you that?”

“Mom.”

“Hmm.” That made a lot of sense. That was pretty much Yennefer’s motto.

“Jaskier’s really nice. He’s really smart, and he knows a song for everything. He gives really good hugs too,” Ciri told him, playing with the end of the friendship bracelet tied around her wrist. 

“Hmm.” Geralt really didn’t know what to say. Ciri had never mentioned Jaskier before now and neither had Yennefer. Yet, Jaskier seemed to be a large part of their lives. Though Yen had encouraged Geralt to come to the munches she hosted from time to time. She just hadn’t mentioned that she ran it with Jaskier’s help. What did he say about a man who he really didn’t know, even if they had shared a fairly remarkable experience.

“Was Jaskier nice to you, Dad?” Ciri asked, looking up at him with her big eyes looking so genuinely concerned that Geralt’s heart tugged again.

“Yeah, Sweetheart, he was nice to me,” Geralt promised.

“Good.” Ciri looked at the doorway before leaning in closer. “Mom says you need someone who is nice to you, but she said not to tell you that.”

Geralt smiled and shook his head. “Jaskier is…” He wanted to say that Jaskier was only a friend, but that wasn’t the truth. They weren’t friends, and Geralt didn’t make a habit of lying to Ciri even when it was more palatable than the truth.

“Jaskier is sad a lot. Everyone teases him about getting his heart broken, but he’s lonely...even when he had a girlfriend,” Ciri said before Geralt could find the right words. Her words twisted something inside him that had been growing since the day before. 

“Ciri, Jaskier and I aren’t anything. I visited him yesterday, but that’s it. Don’t get your hopes up,” Geralt told her. This was why single parents didn’t introduce their kids to their dates, but Geralt had always been an open book to his daughter...well, as open as was appropriate.

Frowning, Ciri reached forward and held Geralt’s face in both of her hands and stared into his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind if you visited Jaskier more...and it would be kinda nice to have you around more.”

Geralt was pretty sure he couldn’t breathe. “Fuck,” he muttered, looking down between them at his bare feet and Ciri’s colorful high tops which she’d forgotten to take of when she saw him. He shouldn’t have come in here half drunk. He should have put an end to this as soon as she asked about Jaskier. He should’ve made a tactical retreat with excuses about having to help Lambert with something. He was not prepared to handle his daughter’s concern for him or the reality that he was responsible for the fact that they didn’t see each other as often as they could.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, Lion Cub?” Geralt asked, continuing to stare down at his feet rather than at his daughter’s loving eyes. “I think you need someone who’s nice to you too.”

“Fuck, Ciri,” Geralt grumbled, pulling her into his lap and burying his nose in her soft hair. She clung to him, pressing her cheek to his chest. “You shouldn’t be worried about me.”

“Hmm.” Ciri made her voice sound as gruff as possible as she mocked him, but it was more endearing than insulting.

“If your daughter is finished interrogating you, I want you to know that you are coming to dinner tomorrow,” Yen said, standing in the doorway. “I don’t trust you to feed yourself, and your brother is less useful than a wet sock, so he certainly isn’t going to feed you.”

“I’ll invite Jaskier,” Ciri exclaimed. 

“And Ciri will invite Jaskier,” Yennefer said, giving him a bland smile that did not instill any sort of confidence in him. “Ciri, don’t think I didn’t hear that bit about him sneaking you candy.”

“Shit.”

Geralt sighed. 

* * *

Geralt didn’t make it back to his hotel room that night. After he helped Ciri with her homework, Yennefer cooked enough pasta to soak up any leftover alcohol in his system. Then Geralt sat through not one but two animated movies with Ciri half asleep in his arms while Yennefer went out. 

When the second movie ended, Geralt carried Ciri to bed. He was grateful for Yennefer’s advice to have Ciri get ready before the movie, so he wouldn’t have to wake her after. 

Geralt pulled the covers up over Ciri’s small body and tucked them over her shoulders. He pushed her almost white blond hair out of her face before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Closing the door behind him, Geralt walked down the hall to the spare room. He pulled off his jeans and t-shirt and folded them on top of the vanity. He climbed into the bed and stared up at the ceiling. 

His thoughts were a strange mix of heavy and light. His gut churned just at the idea that he wasn’t there for Ciri as much as he could be. He didn’t want her to grow up to think that he’d chosen anything over her. As much as he valued his solitude and worked himself to the bone, Ciri was his life. 

And then there was Jaskier. He’d woken up in the bathtub still holding Jaskier’s hand after he’d safeworded. Jaskier had nodded off as well with his head on his arms. It had been intimate, and Geralt had had to drag himself out of there before he’d done something stupid like ask Jaskier to make this a regular thing.

Yet, the thought of seeing Jaskier again didn’t turn his stomach like it usually would with other partners. Geralt didn’t even think he’d mind falling asleep while Jaskier watched trashy television again. 

Geralt didn’t want to admit that Ciri and Yen were right. He was lonely even if he chose isolation. It had been years since he’d connected with a lover in a meaningful way. It had been years since he’d fallen asleep holding a lover. 

Jaskier was...Jaskier wasn’t like anyone else Geralt had ever met. He was a tangle of contradictions, but there was something about him that still pulled Geralt in.

“Dad?”

Geralt’s thoughts vanished as he looked at the doorway where Ciri stood shifting from foot to foot.

“Nightmare?” he asked softly.

“Can I sleep in here with you even if I say no?” she asked, biting her lip.

“Come on, Cub,” he said, holding up the blanket.

Ciri rushed around the bed and dove beneath the covers before clinging to Geralt’s side. Geralt settled the blankets around them, then wrapped his arm around her. 

“I’m sorry,” Ciri whispered as she used him as a pillow.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because I made you sad.”

“You didn’t make me sad, Ciri.”

“You sure?”

“Hmm.”

“You like Jaskier don’t you?”

“Will you go to sleep if I tell you yes?”

“Promise.”

“He’s not terrible.”

“Hmm, yeah, he ain’t bad,” she agreed, pressing her cold toes to his thigh. 

Geralt reached down and grabbed them, rubbing them until they were warm. Then he kissed her hair. “Sleep well, Ciri.”

“Sleep well,” she mumbled, already fading. 

Geralt didn’t fall asleep as easily as she did, but the weight in his chest subsided. It wasn’t until long after he’d heard Yen return that he finally fell into peaceful sleep.

* * *

“I’m brokenhearted,” Jaskier said, collapsing into a seat beside Ciri and across from Yennefer.

“It’ll be okay, Jaskier,” Ciri consoled, patting his forearm gently.

Yennefer snorted. “That might just be a record. What’s it been, a day?” she asked, taking a sip of her sangria. 

“Almost two,” Jaskier sighed, unable to muster the will to snark back at her. 

“It’s not just heartbreak this time. It’s my dreams being crushed. I had such…” He sighed again, and Yennefer slid her drink over to him. Jaskier took a long sip of the surprisingly dry sangria and let it fortify him. “It was a disaster.”

“Ciri, go ask Triss for Jaskier’s usual,” Yennefer said. “And another round of drinks.”

“Okay,” Ciri said, sliding off of the chair and walking over to the waiter’s station. Yennefer’s eyes followed her, but Jaskier knew she was waiting for him to spill his soul while young ears weren’t in range.

“I fucked it all up, Yen. Geralt put his trust in me, and I fucked it up...and I never stopped talking the whole time I fucked it up.”

“You never stop talking. That isn’t anything new,” Yennefer said, taking her drink back and draining it.

“But I usually know what I’m saying. I think I told him that his chest hair was like the pelt of an exotic animal, but I can’t be sure.” Jaskier had been regretting that comment since Geralt had left his house in a hurry after they’d woken up from their impromptu bath nap.

Yennefer almost choked on the last of her drink at that admission. “And how did Geralt react to that?”

“He didn’t. His eyes were closed while he was resting on my chest while I watched the Real Housewives of Redania,” Jaskier sighed.

Yennefer hummed before patting his hand lightly. “I don’t know what sort of scene you were running, but I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think it was. Geralt can be intimidating. I would talk to him before you go and break your own heart again,” she said, taking his hand in hers and rubbing his palm gently with her thumb. 

“Oh no, I can’t ever speak to him again. I’m likely to say something terribly awkward. The chest hair wasn’t even the worst of it. It was just the least socially inappropriate example. He  _ safeworded _ , Yen,” he whispered the last part like it was something shameful. He hadn’t stopped beating himself up over it since Geralt left. Geralt may have tried to reassure him, but he doubted that Geralt would ever want to play with him again after that—after he’d handed over his trust, and Jaskier had fucked it up.

“Because of your talking?” Yennefer gave him an appraising look as she swirled the ice that was left in her glass.

“No, but he’ll never want to see me again. I know it. He tried being polite when he left, but I know he was just trying to be nice. The scene lasted hours. I was dead on my feet, and he was fine to drive home.”

“He has freakish stamina. When I say I could not walk the day after Ciri was conceived, I am not remotely exaggerating. And neither of us thought we could conceive children... _ yet _ ,” Yennefer glanced over at Ciri who was talking to another one of the waiters. She had a stupidly sentimental look on her face, and it warmed Jaskier’s heart despite its broken status.

“But...isn’t post-scene cuddling half of the attraction? I mean sure we did cuddle after the first scene, but I think he did that because I looked pathetic lying on the couch in my laundry-day lounge wear. I figured after the second scene, he might need a little...you know, especially after...” 

“Don’t take it personally.” Yennefer turned back around and began playing with the small plastic sword that had been a part of her drink.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s over, and never to happen again.” Jaskier tried not to flinch at the way his chest twinged just thinking about it. He’d hoped to have a connection with Geralt. He’d thought they had for a moment there, but then it had felt like it had unraveled.

“I wouldn’t be so certain,” Yennefer said, eyeing the bar’s entrance.

Jaskier turned to see what she was looking at, and he felt the color drain from his face. Geralt was standing just inside the door, glancing around the bar. Before Jaskier could duck his head, Geralt spotted them and began to make his way across the bar toward them. He was back in his leather jacket today, Jaskier was certain that his stomach was about to drop straight out of him. It just wasn’t fair.

Ciri intercepted Geralt before he could reach their table, giving him a tight hug which Geralt returned easily. He pressed a kiss to Ciri’s hair before pulling away, seemingly uncaring that they were in the middle of a fairly packed restaurant. Ciri tugged his sleeve and whispered something in his ear before they made their way over together.

“Well, I think that’s my cue to—”

“Don’t you dare move, or I will make you start paying for all of the alcohol you drink here.” Yennefer pinned Jaskier in place with her eyes, and Jaskier knew that she was not kidding.

“You are cruel, Yennefer.”

“It’s one of my most sought after qualities,” she retorted, and Jaskier made a disgusted face at her.

Ciri returned with Geralt in tow, and Yennefer leaned over to kiss him softly on the lips. Geralt even pressed a second kiss to her forehead before stepping around the table toward Jaskier.

Geralt stopped in front of him and leaned in, and Jaskier flinched as he got close, turning what he realized was going to be a kiss to the lips into a kiss to his ear. Geralt didn’t say anything about it, and the look in his eyes was unreadable as he stepped around Jaskier to the empty seat between him and Yennefer. 

Jaskier cringed as Geralt didn’t say anything as he took his seat. Ciri was scrutinizing them both as she sipped her milkshake which she’d brought back with her.

“Awkward,” Ciri said, looking right at her father over a mountain of whipped cream while sucking her shake through a straw.

Jaskier’s head snapped toward Geralt who simply gave Ciri a doting smile despite just how awkward that had been. It was like the man was immune to awkwardness even when knee deep in it.

“You’re late,” Yennefer said, motioning to Triss across the bar.

“I was helping Lambert move the last of his things,” Geralt said, nodding to Triss when she placed a beer in front of him. 

“Oh thank you, you lovely soul,” Jaskier gasped, when Triss placed a sangria in front of him. He picked it up and drank half of it in one go before smacking his lips. “Another when you get the chance,” he said as she placed Yennefer’s in front of her.

The entire table and Triss just blinked at him. 

“ _ Awkward _ ,” Ciri said again before going back to her milkshake.

Yennefer and Geralt turned back to each other as Triss left again.

“Honestly, how often do you help your brother move? I think you come to town more often to help that idiot move than to visit your own daughter. The man is  _ constantly  _ moving,” Yennefer said, picking the fruit off the edge of her drink and biting into the slice of orange. Neither Geralt or Ciri reacted to the implication that Geralt didn’t visit Ciri enough, so Jaskier held his tongue, but he almost jumped head first into an argument that wasn’t actually a thing.

“Evidently, it doesn’t take people very long to realize he’s a fucking asshole and ask him to move out,” Geralt said with a shrug.

“Language!” Jaskier hissed, pointing at Ciri who was laughing softly.

Both Yennefer and Geralt looked at him like he had a second head. It was Ciri who patted his hand. 

“They curse a lot, Jaskier. I hope you aren’t offended.”

Jaskier opened and closed his mouth, unsure how he felt about being patronized by a ten year old. 

“I…”

“Geralt,” Yennefer said, getting a dangerous glint in her eye. 

“Hmm?”

“Don’t... _ Yennefer _ ,” Jaskier mouthed at her across the table.

“Speaking of moving. I’ve been looking through old boxes for an exotic animal pelt I had. Did it somehow get mixed in with your things when you moved out?” she asked, looking directly at Jaskier as she toyed with the tiny plastic sword that had held her garnish together. 

Jaskier could feel Geralt’s frown directed at him as he did everything in his power not to look in Geralt’s direction.

“Why would you have an animal pelt, Mom?” Ciri asked, sounding truly horrified by the idea that Yennefer might own one.

All eyes turned to Ciri who looked on the brink of tears.

“It’s not a real fur, Ciri. And no, Yennefer. I have not seen  _ it _ ,” Geralt quickly soothed his daughter before sending Yennefer an exasperated look. 

“That’s funny because I could have sworn Jaskier said he’d seen it,” Yennefer said, undeterred.

“ _ Yen _ .” Geralt’s voice wasn’t sharp, but it carried a lot of meaning to it, and Yennefer bit her lip and looked away. 

“Why would you want something that looks like an animal skin anyway?” Ciri asked, still disgusted by the idea.

“Ciri, your mother is teasing Jaskier. Ignore her,” Geralt said, stealing the cherry off of the garnish sword on Yennefer’s drink and licking any alcohol off of it before reaching across the table to place it on top of Ciri’s milkshake beside the one already on top of it.

“Oh. You guys are  _ weird _ ,” Ciri told them before going back to her massive drink which was rapidly disappearing. 

“Thanks for that. Now she’s going to ask me what an animal pelt means later,” Yennefer hissed at Geralt.

“Don’t say things in front of her if you aren’t ready to explain them to her.”

“Are  _ you  _ ready to explain it to her?”

“Hmm.”

“Liar.”

“Here we go,” Triss said, coming back to the table with a tray full of appetizers. She covered nearly the entire tabletop with plate after plate of food before heading off again with the promise of getting Jaskier’s drink for him. 

Jaskier had never been so happy for an interruption in his life. However, Yennefer and Geralt dropped the subject as though it wasn’t awkward at all as they began sharing the wealth of food on the table.

There wasn’t much conversation as they all ate their weight in food. It was always shocking how much Ciri could eat even after consuming a milkshake, and Geralt and Yennefer weren’t exactly shy about their appetites either. 

Triss brought out several more plates of food as they finished things. 

“Try this, you’ll like it,” Yennefer said, moving something from her plate to Geralt’s despite having taken a bite out of it.

Geralt didn’t say anything as he picked it up and popped it into his mouth. 

“Hmm.”

Jaskier watched as Ciri reached across the table and stole another morsel of food off of Geralt’s plate, and he didn’t say anything. Jaskier was tempted to do the same when he saw that Geralt had the last piece of his favorite food on his plate, but before he could work up the nerve, Geralt picked it up. Jaskier bit his lip then gasped when Geralt placed it onto Jaskier’s plate instead of into his mouth.

“How did you know?” Jaskier asked, making eye contact with Geralt for the first time since the kiss.

“You’ve been eyeing it for five minutes,” Geralt said, shrugging. “Surprised you didn’t just take it like last time.”

“You aren’t subtle,” Ciri added, leaving Jaskier wondering how a ten year old knew the word subtle and how to use it in a sentence.

“Eat it or I will,” Yennefer said, looking from Jaskier down to the morsel.

Jaskier picked it up and stuffed it in his mouth, grinning at Yennefer with his mouth full. She looked at him with disgust, and Geralt punched him lightly in the arm. 

“Ow.”

Geralt ignored his dramatics.

When they were finished decimating the mountains of food, Ciri turned to Yennefer with the same pleading expression she did every week.

“Can we stay for dessert?” she asked, and Yennefer shook her head as always.

“It’s already late, and you have school tomorrow,” Yennefer argued, but even as she was finishing her sentence Triss approached the table with a tray of dessert.

Ciri’s entire face lit up as she looked over at Geralt who was sitting there as stoically as ever. “Thank you, Dad,” she cried as the massive slice of triple chocolate cake was placed in front of her. There was a mound of vanilla ice cream on top of it, drizzled with both chocolate and raspberry syrup. It was decadent, and even Jaskier’s mouth watered at the sight of it.

When a second slice was placed in front of Jaskier, his chest twisted tightly.

“You are unbelievable,” Yennefer complained. “Are you going to put her to bed tonight when she’s on a sugar high?”

“Would you rather deal with him instead?” Geralt asked, pointing to Jaskier.

Yennefer made a contemplative sound before looking somewhat satisfied.

“Wait, what?” Jaskier asked with his mouth full, already digging into his dessert.

“Dad’s going to put you to bed,” Ciri said between bites.

Jaskier choked.

Geralt’s hand patting his back only made matters worse as Jaskier turned to look at him with wide eyes.

Geralt just shrugged. 

“I—”

“Not now,” Geralt said, glancing over at Ciri.

“ _ Right _ ...thank you for the cake. Would you like some?” he offered. Geralt shook his head, but he didn’t remove his hand from Jaskier’s back. Instead of patting, he began to rub it in soothing circles.

“If you’re offering,” Yennefer said, picking up a spoon from the pile Triss had left them and taking a scoop of the cake.

Jaskier tried to look offended, but there was really no way he would finish this alone. Unlike Ciri, who was already halfway through the treat, wearing a smear of chocolate sauce on her chin for her efforts.

“My tummy hurts,” Ciri said after she’d finished the cake and practically licked the plate clean.

“I hate you,” Yennefer muttered to Geralt who stood up and walked around the table to Ciri. 

“I’ll be back,” he said, lifting Ciri out of her seat and into his arms like she weighed nothing. She wrapped herself around him and rested her head on his shoulder as he walked out of the bar and into the door beside it that led up to Yennefer’s apartment. 

“Are you going to finish that?” Yennefer asked, pointing at the cake which was only half eaten.

“Do you think I’m getting laid tonight?” Jaskier asked.

Yennefer made a contemplative face. “I’d say fifty-fifty chance if you don’t say something completely unforgivable.”

“Right. Then it probably isn’t a good idea for me to finish that.” 

Yennefer made a sympathetic sound as she pulled the dish to her side of the table and dug in. 

“Not that it’s any of my business, but would you care for a word of advice?” she asked as she focused on his dessert.

“If it’s to give up while I’m only slightly behind, then I really don’t need it.”

“No. While I would love to tease you relentlessly, I will give you a piece of good advice when it comes to Geralt.”

Jaskier knew he looked dubious, but he couldn’t help it. Why would Yennefer give him advice about dealing with the father of her child who kissed her on the lips in greeting? He knew that if he had such a claim on Geralt, he wouldn’t go offering advice for others to tap that.

“I love Geralt, and he loves me, but we’re better as we are. Things are less  _ volatile  _ this way, and much better for Ciri. Anyway, don’t try to analyze Geralt’s silence. Force him to talk. Don’t expect it to be lilting and poetic. He’s blunt and awkward. It’s why he doesn’t speak a lot of the time because he doesn’t like to inadvertently hurt with his words. But if you can’t figure him out, ask. He isn’t silent just to be difficult or because he isn’t into things,” she said, finishing off the cake as she went.

Jaskier actually listened as he finished his fourth drink of the evening. He was starting to feel the way he imagined Ciri had felt, and he wondered if Geralt would carry him up to bed the way he had his daughter.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Geralt reenter the bar. He didn’t immediately return to the table, finding Triss first and handing over his credit card.

“He’s paying for dinner,” Jaskier said, frowning. Geralt shouldn’t be paying for him.

“ _ Idiot _ . He acts like I don’t own this place,” Yennefer sighed. “Well, I should go make sure he hasn’t fed Ciri my entire emergency stash of chocolate while he’s at it.”

Jaskier snorted, knowing she was just making an excuse to leave gracefully. Geralt may have spoiled Ciri, but he didn’t seem like the sort to be vindictive through his daughter. 

“Good night, Jaskier. Don’t go and break your own heart before I see you next. It’s pathetic frankly, and I won’t be associated with it.”

“Thanks for your concern, Yennefer.”

“Like I’d be concerned for you.” She shook her head before standing up and walking toward the exit. She only waved her fingers at Geralt as she disappeared out the door.

It wasn’t long before Geralt reclaimed his seat beside Jaskier, bringing another beer with him. Jaskier watched him sit in comfortable silence sipping his beer for a minute.

Taking a breath, Jaskier pressed on. “Was Sunday a disaster, or did I overthink it?”

Geralt frowned at him, lowering his mug. “Sunday was...Sunday was good.”

“Really? Are you being honest or trying to spare my feelings?” Jaskier asked, not understanding how Geralt had come to that opinion.

“Why would I lie?”

“Why would you consider it good after you had to safeword because I fucked up?” Jaskier retorted, managing to keep his voice down despite the way the alcohol was going to his head.

“You didn’t fuck up.”

Jaskier scoffed. 

Geralt looked uncomfortable as he stared down at the contents of his glass. He closed his eyes and sighed before speaking. “I get overwhelmed. Doctor’s said PTSD, but Eskel, my brother, says it used to happen even before that. Either way, it happens. Sometimes too much sound does it. Sometimes different fabrics or over stimulation during sex, just  _ too much  _ at once.” Geralt paused like he didn’t know what else to say.

Jaskier bit his lip. He really wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. He wanted to offer comfort because Geralt looked uncomfortable, but he also didn’t look like he wanted comfort from anyone.

“I don’t tell partners. Yen yells about it…”

“I’m sure that helps.”

Geralt actually gave him a small smile at that, and Jaskier felt a little better.

“She’s right, but it’s a double-edged sword. If I tell partners then they can try to avoid it, but I have to put more trust in them not to take advantage of it.”

“Have partners...sorry, that’s not my business.”

Geralt sighed. “No, but that doesn’t make it easier to open up. I have my rules, but I leave it at that...so, you had no way of knowing the washcloth was going to trigger it. It’s not your fault. In fact, you were competent the entire afternoon including when I safeworded.” 

Jaskier smiled at him. He felt a weight lifted from his shoulders as he reached across the table to hook his pinky through Geralt’s where his hand rested beside his glass.

Geralt looked at their hands and added, “You have a nice voice, and it’s easy to focus on your voice since you never stop talking. A lot of Doms try to make me focus on pain like spanking or whipping but then they make it unreliable which makes me focus on everything else.”

“Oh.” It took Jaskier a moment to process that, but suddenly their scene and Geralt in general made so much more sense. “So, being all stoic and brooding isn’t just part of your shtick?” 

“Hmm.” Geralt actually smiled.

“Has anyone ever told you that your sense of humor is terrible?”

“Yennefer, regularly.”

“Right, of course. It really wasn’t that bad?” Jaskier asked, circling back.

“You’re a good Dom.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I’m good for you.”

“You are.”

“Okay. Does that mean you’ll give me another try?”

“Mm. But not tonight.”

“I can work with that. I’m pretty sure I’ve indulged too much to do much of anything tonight anyway.”

“I was going to invite you back to my room…”

“And I’ve suddenly experienced a second wind. Let’s get going. Did you drive?” Jaskier perked up immediately.

Geralt rolled his eyes, but he removed his jacket from the back of his chair. “Lambert dropped me off. Give me your keys. I’ll drive your car,” he said.

“Are you okay to drive?”

“Hmm.” 

“Right, two beers versus four of Triss’ sangria’s,” Jaskier said, digging his hand into the pocket of his bright blue coat and removing his key chain.

Geralt eyed the mass of keys and key chains which Jaskier handed over, but he didn’t make any comments. They walked out of the bar, and Geralt followed him quietly to the car. 

Jaskier collapsed into the passenger seat and looked over at Geralt as Geralt started the car and easily pulled into traffic. “Will you get angry if I ask what happened to this being a one-time thing? Not that I am complaining in the least. You might have guessed that I am totally on board with more. Just...you didn’t seem that way the other day.”

“Ciri talked some sense into me.”

“Right, of course. Your ten year old daughter gave you relationship advice.”

“Mm. She claimed  _ you  _ give better relationship advice than Roach…”

“I knew it!” Jaskier crowed, leaning over the console and grabbing Geralt’s thigh in his excitement. “Stacy gives great advice.” Jaskier could see Geralt rolling his eyes out of the corner of his eye, but he just let his head loll to the side and grinned at him. 

The motel they came to wasn’t exactly five stars or even three stars. It looked old and dilapidated, but Geralt didn’t seem concerned. 

“Charming place, you’re staying at,” Jaskier told him.

“Sheets are clean, and the water stays hot for more than five minutes.”

“But have atrocities been committed here?” Jaskier asked, eyeing the almost empty parking lot. It was like something out of a horror film.

Geralt shrugged. “Probably no more than anywhere else in town.”

“That doesn’t actually make me feel better.”

“Hmm.”

The room itself looked old, but it did smell clean. Jaskier could appreciate that lack of mustiness that often came with old carpet. Instead, it smelled like sage.

“Were you burning candles?”

“Mm.”

“Does that help?”

“Sometimes. Sage is good, not overpowering.”

“Good to know.”

Before Jaskier could say anything else, Geralt turned to him and kissed him. His teeth nipped at Jaskier’s bottom lip before he pressed his tongue inside, dragging it against Jaskier’s own before retreating just as quickly. It was hungry and demanding, and Jaskier gasped when Geralt pulled back to rest his forehead against his.

“Well, I am certainly glad that—”

Geralt kissed him again, effectively cutting off his words. 

“Is that your way of saying you’d prefer to focus on something else instead?”

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed between kisses. 

Jaskier couldn’t argue with Geralt’s strategy. It was certainly effective. Instead of protesting, Jaskier buried his fingers in Geralt’s hair and kissed him back with equal ferocity. 

Geralt pushed Jaskier toward the bed, and Jaskier stumbled backwards. No sooner had the backs of his knees touched the bed than Geralt was pushing him down and following him onto the mattress.

Jaskier was pinned to the covers, and he blinked up at Geralt. He could read the hunger there, and he swallowed thickly. “Um, before we do something truly epic if completely rough and filthy...are you going to expect me to leave right after...because I don’t really go in for that.”

“You can stay,” Geralt growled, leaning in to suck a bruise into Jaskier’s neck. It was extremely distracting, but Jaskier had learned to multitask from a young age.

“Do people not generally like to stay?” he asked, working his fingers between them to unzip Geralt’s jacket.

“Not really.”

“You need better sex partners.”

“Are you included in that?”

Jaskier may have let out a bit of a squawk as he slapped Geralt’s shoulder. “Take that back.”

Geralt just grunted, leaning back to make short work of Jaskier’s jacket before tossing it carelessly over his shoulder. 

“Make me,” he challenged, and Jaskier couldn’t say he was disappointed with that answer.


	7. Mornings After and Misguided Youth

Geralt woke to the sensation of someone wrapped in his arms. He squinted as he opened his eyes slowly, trying to remember if he had spent the night at Yennefer’s for some reason. However, the brown hair tickling his nose was too short and too light to be Yen’s, and the body was too large to be Ciri. The back hair was another tip off.

It all came back to Geralt as he squeezed his eyes closed and rolled onto his back. 

_Jaskier_.

He’d met up with him at Yen’s bar. Family dinner. 

The bar had been so packed, that he’d almost walked right back out again when he arrived. However, he’d spotted Ciri, and he hadn’t wanted to disappoint her. They rarely had family meals, and he’d promised at least one before he had to leave town. It just happened that Yen’s bar was never quiet.

He’d almost left a second time when Jaskier flinched away from him. He was glad he’d stayed. Yen had found a way to tell him what was wrong even if it embarrassed everyone at the table. Geralt could deal with awkward situations which seemed like a good thing because Jaskier had a remarkable talent for turning innocuous situations awkward. 

Geralt rolled back onto his side, wrapping his arm around Jaskier’s waist. He pulled Jaskier flush against him and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder. Jaskier made a snuffling sound, but didn’t wake. Geralt wasn’t actually surprised that the man was a heavy sleeper.

Pressing another kiss to Jaskier’s shoulder, Geralt let his fingers slide down Jaskier’s arm. Jaskier’s clothes did a remarkable job of disguising how muscular he was, and Geralt couldn’t help how much he appreciated when Jaskier let him see him like this. 

Geralt understood why Jaskier preferred to remain clothed during scenes. He didn’t use physical punishment to reinforce dynamics, but the simple disparity between being clothed when a sub was naked went a long way in reinforcing the dynamics of the scene. It was especially nice to see him like this for that very reason. It was a treat that Geralt doubted many others got to experience.

Geralt nuzzled Jaskier’s neck, just behind his ear, taking in the scent of him. Jaskier smelled good even though he’d sweat out the alcohol he’d had the night before and despite the thoroughly exhaustive sex they’d had. Even smelling ripe, Jaskier didn’t bother Geralt’s senses. 

“Mmm...what a lovely way to wake up,” Jaskier mumbled, wiggling just a little closer. “Feels like at least part of you agrees.”

Geralt hummed. 

“Between the alcohol and the weapon between your legs, I don’t think I have been this pleasantly sore in years,” Jaskier sighed, rolling over and burrowing against Geralt’s chest. He pressed his leg between Geralt’s and wrapped his arm around his waist. “What time is it?”

“About a quarter after six,” Geralt said, running his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. 

“Why are you awake? We fell asleep like thirty minutes ago,” Jaskier complained, voice muffled against Geralt’s chest.

“It was four hours ago, and I always wake around now.”

“Four hours? No. I distinctly remember waking up to pee and then coming back for another round,” Jaskier insisted, looking up at Geralt with wide blue eyes.

“It doesn’t count if you fall asleep before you can even grope around enough to find my cock.”

“Slander! I don’t need to grope to find it,” Jaskier said, pressing his hand between them and wrapping his fingers around Geralt’s length with a triumphant smile.

“You did at five in the morning, and you fell asleep stroking my wrist instead.”

“In my defense, they are both quite thick,” Jaskier muttered, nuzzling against Geralt’s chest. “I suppose that just means we must make up for lost hand jobs.”

Geralt snorted. The man was incorrigible, but he doubted that pointing that fact out would have any impact. Not that he particularly wanted it to impact Jaskier either.

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed, getting Jaskier’s attention. 

“What was th—”

Geralt kissed him as he tipped his head up, surprising a small gasp out of him that allowed Geralt to slip his tongue between his parted lips. Jaskier melted into him.

“I wasn’t even talking that time,” Jaskier said breathlessly as they pulled apart.

“No, you weren’t,” Geralt agreed, smiling when Jaskier huffed at him before leaning up for another kiss.

Jaskier rolled his hips as they continued to kiss, and Geralt obliged by wrapping his leg over Jaskier’s hip. 

“Do you have to go back today?” Jaskier asked, nipping his way down Geralt’s throat then nuzzling him with the stubble on his jaw.

“Mm. I have a job in the city this evening, but I’ll head home after that,” Geralt said, rolling his hips against Jaskier’s in a delicious rhythm. Neither of them was in much of a hurry.

“Right.” Jaskier didn’t do a good job of masking his disappointment, and Geralt ran his fingers through his hair soothingly.

“You would grow sick of me if I were here all the time.”

“I’m afraid, it is more likely to be the other way around. Most of my partners grow weary of me eventually,” Jaskier retorted, slowing the roll of his hips to hold Geralt tighter. “I’m sorry, I’m sure I am a lot to handle.”

“Shut up, Jaskier. I wouldn’t have invited you to stay if I didn’t want you here,” Geralt grumbled. He pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s jaw and held him. 

“Perhaps one last tumble for the road? Or better yet, a small scene?” Jaskier gave him the most hopeful look Geralt had ever seen on a grown man, and it melted something cold and hard that resided in his chest.

Before Geralt could formulate a proper response, his phone began to ring. He immediately pulled away from Jaskier and groped around on the side table for the offending object.

“Who the hell calls you at six in the morning?” Jaskier asked, sounded entirely offended.

“It’s Yennefer’s ring, and she doesn’t call me _ever_ unless it’s about Ciri,” Geralt said, finally finding the phone and bringing it to his ear as he accepted the call.

“Your daughter insists that she is sick,” Yennefer’s voice came through the phone clearly.

“Does she have a fever?” Geralt asked, sitting up in bed as Jaskier gave him some space. He could feel his pulse racing as soon as Yennefer mentioned sickness. He glanced around, cataloging where his clothing was, so he could head out quickly if he needed to.

“She came into my room at six with a clammy forehead and rosy cheeks,” Yennefer said, sounding irritated rather than concerned.

“Did you take her temperature?”

“It was normal.”

“So what’s going on, Yen?” Geralt asked, tired of the runaround. His stomach was practically in his throat because Yennefer rarely called him when Ciri was sick unless it was dire.

“My best guess is that your daughter pressed her face against the heater then splashed herself with water before coming into my room to moan dramatically.”

“She what? Why would she do that?”

“Perhaps because she thinks her fool of a father will stay another day if she is miserable enough.”

Geralt sighed, running his palm over his face as he looked down at Jaskier who was biting his lip as he listened shamelessly to their exchange.

“Put Ciri on,” Geralt said. He could hear the weariness in his own voice as he tried to think of what to say to his wayward child.

“Good morning, Dad,” Ciri said in a truly pitiful voice.

Geralt punched Jaskier in the shoulder as Jaskier’s entire face lit up at her act. 

“What’s wrong, Cub?” Geralt asked her, keeping his voice soothing.

“I don’t feel well.”

“What are you feeling?”

“Sick.”

“How are you feeling sick? Is your stomach upset? Does your throat hurt? Your head?”

“Yes,” she mumbled pitifully.

“Which one?”

“All?” she sounded like she wasn’t sure herself.

“That sounds like the flu, Ciri. I’m going to tell Yen to call the doctor and take you as soon as they open,” Geralt said, and he slapped his hand over Jaskier’s mouth before the man could laugh loudly.

“No!” Ciri squeaked.

“Ciri, this is serious. I want you to see the doctor right away.”

“No, I’ll be okay.”

“ _Ciri_.”

“I will...but maybe you could come over to make sure?” She sounded so timid that it hurt Geralt’s heart. He’d been manipulated by his daughter a thousand times since she was born, but this was different. 

Geralt sighed as Jaskier rolled around beside him trying to laugh silently.

“Ciri, why are you pretending to be sick?” Geralt asked. He was met with silence on the other end of the line. “Cub…”

“I just wanted to see you before you left.”

“It will hardly be more than a week before you see me again.” Geralt tried to reason with her, though he knew it was pointless if she was willing to go to such lengths to get him to stay.

“I know.”

Jaskier had stopped laughing, and he looked sympathetic as he settled against Geralt’s side again.

“Ciri, you can’t skip school just to say goodbye to me. School’s important.”

“I know…”

“Give me the phone,” Jaskier said, motioning for Geralt’s cell.

Geralt glared at him and held it out of reach.

“Is that Jaskier?” Ciri’s voice was hopeful.

“Ciri…”

“Can I talk to him?”

“Cir—”

Jaskier snatched the phone out of Geralt’s hand and rolled out of his grasp. “Ciri, darling, are you giving your parents a hard time?”

Geralt could hear Ciri’s entirely dishonest _no_ , and he wondered when his daughter had become a liar.

“Ciri, I told you about the heater trick in confidence. You were not to use it lightly—”

“You what?” Geralt barked, reaching for Jaskier, but the other man was out of bed and heading for the bathroom. “Get back here!”

Geralt followed him into the bathroom, noting that Jaskier hadn’t actually closed the door behind him. He found Jaskier sitting on the closed toilet lid, running his fingers through his unruly hair.

“I understand that you miss your father, but if you lie to your parents, it won’t fix anything. Trust me, darling, honesty though terribly frightening is the best policy. The heater trick should only be used for tests you forgot to study for, not to guilt your father,” Jaskier counseled her, and Geralt felt his eye twitching.

“Give me the phone, Jaskier.”

Ciri said something on the other end of the line which Geralt couldn’t make out. 

“Yes, it is twitching...I agree, he does look constipated…”

“Jaskier!”

“I believe your father would like to speak with you again, my dear...hmm. Let me speak to him, and he will call you right back. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like you have a death wish,” Geralt mumbled, reaching for the phone, but Jaskier turned away from him.

“Love you too, darling Ciri. Ta,” Jaskier said, hanging up.

“You taught her the heater trick?” Geralt asked, folding his arms over his chest.

“I didn’t teach it to her. I happened to mention that I did it once when I’d forgotten to study for a final,” Jaskier defended himself.

“You taught her the heater trick.” It wasn’t a question this time.

“I taught her nothing. It was all Stacy.”

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t teach my daughter things she can use against me or Yen,” Geralt told him.

“I wouldn’t have the opportunity if you were around to play with your own daughter.” Jaskier’s eyes went wide as he must have realized what he said.

Geralt didn’t wait for an apology. He ripped his phone from Jaskier’s fingers and slammed the door behind him as he left the room.

“Geralt!” Jaskier cried, but Geralt ignored him. He pulled on his jeans and stepped outside to call Yen back.

“You can tell Jaskier that I will be serving his testicles at the next tapas night,” Yennefer said as soon as she answered the call. Geralt took a breath before he could let himself offer to harvest them for her. This wasn’t Jaskier's fault even if he was a convenient target.

“Hmm. Tell Ciri that I will be over by nine, I’ll take her hiking by Uncle Eskel’s.”

“You’re going to give in? Doesn’t that set a bad precedent? I don’t want to be fighting with her every Monday after you drop her off,” Yennefer said, though she didn’t sound angry with him. For how often Yen was arguing with the administration about their failure to properly challenge Ciri, he doubted she cared if Ciri missed a day.

“She’s never asked me to stay before,” Geralt said, leaning against the railing to the walkway outside his room.

“Geralt, just because she didn’t say the words doesn’t mean she hasn’t been asking for years. She’s well adjusted, but she’s still ten. She’d have you here all the time if she could.”

“Hmm.”

“This isn’t guilt, Geralt. Parenthood is uncomfortable. It’s realizing you have completely unhealthy habits that are counterproductive to raising a child.”

“I know.”

“I know you know, but it’s also putting aside your self hatred for their sake. Your daughter doesn’t care about the past. You’re her father, and that’s all that matters to her.”

“I know,” Geralt sighed. Geralt ran his palm over his face, trying not to let Yen’s words sink too deeply. The chilly morning air was making him too aware of everything, including his own failings.

“Fine then. I will have her dressed and fed when you get here. I just ask that you do not fill her with sweets before returning her to me,” Yennefer said, sounding like her regular contrary self again.

“I will limit it to one sundae on the way home.”

“Do not trifle with me, Geralt, or I will be serving your testicles as well.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Yen.”

“Asshole.”

Geralt smiled as he hung up the phone. He looked down at his hands and tried not to think too hard on his mounting troubles as an absentee parent. Instead, he thought about Jaskier and the more immediate troubles that waited inside his room. Sighing, Geralt turned around and went back inside.

Jaskier was fully dressed when Geralt came back in, but he froze as he saw Geralt standing there.

“Don’t worry, I’m getting out of your hair. I just need my keys, and I’ll be on my way…”

“Sit.” Geralt regretted how gruff he sounded when Jaskier flinched. Closing his eyes, for a moment Geralt took a seat on the edge of the bed close to where Jaskier had seated himself.

“I’m sorry. I was out of line. I had no right to say that to you. It’s a sensitive subject. I just...my own family wasn’t very involved in my life even though we all lived together for the duration of my upbringing. I may be a bit sensitive about it, but I had no right—”

“I’m going to take Ciri hiking if you’d care to join us,” Geralt said, looking at Jaskier who looked terribly upset.

“You what?” Jaskier paused his anxious movements and focused on Geralt.

“I’m going to call Ciri’s school and keep her out for the day to take her hiking. If you would like to join us, I am sure that Ciri would like it very much.”

“I have work...but...but I haven’t cancelled a class in three semesters, I doubt anyone would mind,” Jaskier said, smiling almost shyly. “I am very sorry though. I may have only known you for a few days, but it is quite obvious how much you love Ciri. I had no right.”

“Mm.”

“And—”

“Jaskier.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But, I hurt you.”

“It happens.”

“But I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to be the cause of that,” Jaskier said earnestly.

Geralt opened his mouth to retort, but Jaskier moved closer and held up his hand.

“No, don’t try to tell me that you aren’t hurt. If someone had said that to me, I would be gutted. I don’t need to have my own child to know how terrible that would feel. I am sorry, and you shouldn’t offer to take me on your father-daughter hike after what I said because I don’t deserve it.”

“Jaskier.”

“What, Geralt?”

“You were right. I’m not around all the time, and I have no right to be angry when I’m the one that isn’t there. Yen trusts you with Ciri, and I’ve seen how much she adores you. You don’t have to apologize to me for having my daughter’s best interests at heart.”

“Oh...”

“But you’re not her father, so butt out when I’m trying to talk to her,” Geralt added, pulling Jaskier into his side.

“Right. Sorry. I just—”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Okay.” Jaskier agreed, wrapping his arm around Geralt’s waist. “On a scale of 1 to ready to blow out my kneecaps, how mad are you still.”

“I’m not angry.”

“So, at like a three? Grumpy, but unwilling to admit it for fear of speaking about feelings?”

“If I agree, will you shut up?”

“Debatable.”

Geralt sighed.

“How much time do we have before we have to pick her up?”

“I have to call her school in about an hour, then we have another hour or so before I said I’d pick her up,” Geralt said, leaning back until they both fell onto the covers again.

“Right...so enough time for a teeny tiny little sceney weeny?” Jaskier asked, looking into his eyes with unadulterated tenderness.

Geralt smiled and shook his head.

“Don’t give me that look, Geralt. I am being given an hour with you that I didn’t know I had. Can you blame me for wanting to spend it with you at my mercy?” Jaskier asked, rolling on top of Geralt and straddling his hips. He ran his fingers up Geralt’s bare chest as though to entice him.

“I won’t pretend to know your thoughts, Jaskier.”

“Rest assured, they are not complicated. Currently, I am thinking about what that patch of skin at your clavicle might taste like. I am also thinking that I am very fond of the way your chest rises and falls when you are trying to mask your own arousal. Lastly, I am thinking that it is a travesty that you are wearing pants because I can _feel_ what is waiting beneath them.”

“Jaskier.”

“ _Geralt_. I need an answer. May I have my way with you this hour?”

Geralt felt the spark travel up his spine at Jaskier’s deliberate words.

“An hour. If I forget to call the school, Yen will murder us both, and then Ciri will become an orphan,” Geralt told him.

“Of course. A very logical progression,” Jaskier said, leaning down to kiss Geralt softly. “You will behave for me then.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows, but Jaskier flicked him. “Don’t think I’m not onto you. You sneak attack me with kisses to get your way. You think that I am soft just because I haven’t tanned your ass. I would be very cross about it if it wasn’t so damn distracting.”

Geralt was very tempted to kiss Jaskier just to be an ass, but he held his self control. He did want to do a scene, and if he distracted Jaskier they wouldn’t have time.

“That’s right. I can see those cogs turning in that lovely silver head of yours. Now, I want these jeans off of you. If I could have my way, I’d have you naked for me always,” Jaskier said, shimmying down Geralt’s legs and dragging Geralt’s pants with him.

Geralt lifted his hips to allow Jaskier to remove his jeans completely. He’d foregone underwear in his hurry to get out the door, and it was honestly a relief to take the pants off rather than have them chafing him.

“How did I get so lucky?” Jaskier asked, once he had Geralt naked again.

“You didn’t. I left you my number,” Geralt retorted.

“Oh, you think you can get fresh?” Jaskier asked, grabbing Geralt by the hips and rolling him onto his stomach.

Geralt didn’t fight him, more intrigued by what he planned to do than he was overpowered by Jaskier.

Jaskier pinned him to the bed with a palm to the center of his back, and he actually took Geralt by surprise by spanking him. “Don’t misjudge me, wolf. I may prefer to lavish my subs in praise and worship, but I am not against a bit of discipline for disrespect.”

Geralt growled, feeling the tingle on his skin where Jaskier's palm had hit him. 

“Now, I don’t want to waste our precious time taking you over my knee when we have a perfectly good mirror on the wall. I also don’t want to leave you sore before a hike. So, do I have your word that you intend to behave, or should I make you count out ten just to be certain?”

Geralt considered it. He wasn’t sure what Jaskier had planned, but the sting of being spanked could definitely focus him. On the other hand, he doubted that that was what Jaskier wanted him to choose. Jaskier may have been willing to use physical discipline on subs, but he’d said himself that it wasn’t his preferred method.

“I am yours to do with as you please,” Geralt said, stilling his body. 

“I have so much that would please me, but working with time and supply constraints, it would please me if you stood and walked over to the mirror on the wall. Then I would like you to kneel in front of it and place your hands on your thighs. Can you do that?” Jaskier kept his tone soft and even.

“Yes,” Geralt responded, waiting for Jaskier to remove his weight from his back.

“Excellent.” Jaskier stepped back and walked into the bathroom while Geralt pushed himself off the bed. 

Geralt walked over to the large mirror that he’d hardly paid attention to since he arrived. He didn’t make a habit of studying his reflection, so he hardly took note of the fact that it was about five feet tall and two feet wide and took up a significant portion of the wall. It wasn’t an uncommon feature in a hotel room, but considering the dive status of the rest of the accommodations, it was a little out of place. Yet, the filminess of it and the ancient frame made it seem like they’d built the room around it a lifetime ago.

Settling in front of the mirror, Geralt placed his palms on his thighs and bowed his head. He could hear Jaskier running the sink in the bathroom, and he let himself wonder what Jaskier was doing. He didn’t have to wait long though before the water turned off, and Jaskier stepped back into the room, drying his hands on a towel.

“No bowing your head, my sweet wolf. I want you to look at yourself,” Jaskier said, leaning against the wall and watching him.

Geralt didn’t follow the direction right away. He wasn’t particularly fond of his reflection, and he wasn’t sure what game Jaskier was playing at despite the obvious intention of using the mirror. Geralt breathed in as he felt Jaskier’s fingers beneath his chin. 

“Come on. I promise I won’t hurt you,” Jaskier said, gently guiding his chin up. 

Geralt didn’t fight him, instead letting Jaskier have control.

“There we are. Tell me what you see,” Jaskier ordered, stepping back again.

“Myself,” Geralt replied, looking at himself in the mirror. He immediately saw the mess of his white hair which had come out of its tie overnight. He saw the scars on his chest and arms. He saw the odd color of his eyes.

“I would certainly hope so, but would you mind describing yourself to me? I want it all. The little details. I want you to paint a picture in my mind, so when I close my eyes I can still see you. In fact, I will blindfold myself,” jaskier said, placing the towel over his eyes and tying it behind his head. “What do you see in the mirror, Wolf?”

Geralt growled as he looked at himself. “I see shoulder length gray hair that is messy and in need of a wash.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt rolled his eyes at Jaskier turning the tables on him, forcing him to speak and talk about himself. “I see a five o’clock shadow.”

“Oh, I like those. How much of your face does it cover?”

Geralt tilted his head and studied his cheeks. “Just to the bottom half of my cheeks, down my neck a bit.”

“Does it look rough or soft?”

“It looks like stubble.”

“What else?”

“I see a crooked nose, and brown eyes.”

“Brown?”

“Hmm.”

“Geralt, if you will not appreciate yourself, how am I supposed to appreciate you? Are my eyes covered?” Jaskier asked, sitting in the desk chair that came with the room.

“Yes.”

“Right. I cannot see your face, but having had the pleasure of its company these last twelve hours, here is how I would describe it. You have hair that is white as snow in the sunlight. It falls in stubborn waves despite your best attempts to tame it. It is soft, and it slips through your fingers like spun silk. Your jaw is sharp enough to cut, and while your nose is not perfectly straight, it has character and creates a striking profile. Your stubble is softer than I could’ve imagined, and it leaves the most pleasant warmth when it scratches against my skin. And your eyes...they are not simply _brown_. They are warm honey in the afternoon sun. They are tender and sharp, and I would let them scrutinize me for hours because I know they would cherish me...now, if only they would show the same tenderness for you,” Jaskier said, removing the towel and looking over at Geralt.

Geralt met his gaze before lowering his eyes.

“I’m afraid I miscalculated,” Jaskier said softly.

“How so?”

“I am not sure that an hour is enough time to show you just what I see when I look at you, but I am a determined man, and I will do my solemn best.” Jaskier rose from the chair and walked over to him. “I want you to focus on your reflection.”

Geralt nodded, keeping his eyes on the mirror as Jaskier knelt behind him still fully dressed. Geralt held still as Jaskier reached forward and brushed the backs of his fingers against the stubble on Geralt’s cheek. 

“I love it. Love when you nuzzle it against my neck. Wouldn’t mind you nuzzling it elsewhere,” Jaskier said, lips brushing against Geralt’s ear as he spoke. It sent a shiver down his spine, but he held himself steady and continued to watch his own reflection.

“These shoulders, seeing just how much power they possess makes my knees weak,” Jaskier said, smoothing his palms over Geralt’s shoulders and down his arms. “And your arms. One day, I might just let you lift me and fuck me against the wall because I know you’d never drop me.”

Geralt growled, imagining thrusting into Jaskier against the thin walls of the room.

“Yes, I agree. Quite the delicious thought. But equally delicious are these hands,” he praised, lifting Geralt’s hands off his thighs and bringing them up to study them. 

Geralt looked down at his callused fingers. 

“The way they touch me when you think I’m too out of it to notice how gentle you are. I could die a happy man if I was never touched again save by your hands. The way you drag them over my skin, the contrast of your soft touch with the roughness of your calluses.”

Geralt’s eyes followed Jaskier’s fingers as he brushed them over his fingertips. He tried to hold himself still, but he felt his gut twist as Jaskier dragged them over his palm and up to his wrists. He took Geralt’s hands and guided them to his chest.

Geralt watched the mirror as he touched himself with Jaskier’s guidance. He could feel his own rough fingers over his pecs as Jaskier controlled him.

“Your body is so strong, and it’s breathtaking that you let me have it. Like being granted immortality, where do I even begin? There is just so much to experience, to love. Like this hair which feels so good pressed against me. Or your hips which create the most sinful friction.”

Jaskier brought Geralt’s hands down to brush his hips before settling on his thighs again. “I love every inch of you, my wolf. Perhaps they are just limbs and hair and eyes to you, but they are limbs that cradled me through the night. They are eyes that looked at me with affection. It is hair I will never tire of touching,” Jaskier said, smiling as he ran his fingers through Geralt’s hair. 

“It is a body that brings me great pleasure.” Jaskier ran his palm down Geralt’s chest, and Geralt moaned at the prolonged touch. Jaskier didn’t stop until he cupped Geralt’s cock and gave it a few strokes. “Can you see what I do, my beautiful wolf?”

“I see myself,” Geralt said, continuing to watch Jaskier stroke him in the mirror. His whole body hummed as he focused on the way Jaskier touched him.

“Perhaps I can show you what I see,” Jaskier whispered in his ear, continuing to stroke him several more times before rising and walking over to the bed where they’d left the condoms and lube after their marathon the night before.

Geralt kept his eyes focused on the mirror even as Jaskier settled in behind him again. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Green.”

“Senses?”

“Green.”

“You will let me know if you need me to refocus you,” Jaskier said, tearing open a condom behind him.

“Will you be able to hike if I fuck you?” Jaskier asked as Geralt heard him unzipping his pants.

Geralt smiled. “Yes. I’m not that out of practice.” 

Jaskier kissed his shoulder as he rolled on the condom. “Good because I’ve wanted to do this since Saturday, and I might put on a good front, but I don’t actually have much self control,” Jaskier said, bringing his arms around Geralt’s chest and stroking it affectionately. 

Geralt watched their reflection as Jaskier touched him. He felt his body respond, but it was strange to see it physically respond. He could see his nipples pebble as Jaskier teased them, and it only enhanced the little sparks that pooled in his belly. He could see the unintentional roll of his hips as Jaskier soothed his hand over his belly.

“You’re so lovely when you respond to me,” Jaskier praised, pressing another kiss to his shoulder before beginning to stroke him again. 

Geralt groaned as he watched Jaskier’s sure fingers wrap around him and tease him. It was mesmerizing to watch Jaskier play him like a finely tuned instrument.

He could hear Jaskier open the lube, and he removed his hand from Geralt’s cock for just a moment before it returned covered in slick. It was only another two strokes before Jaskier’s fingers gently touched his ass. 

Geralt growled as he watched Jaskier pleasure him even as he began to feel his insistent fingers at his entrance.

“What do you see?” Jaskier asked, continuing to press gently against him before removing the pressure.

“I see your hand on my cock.”

Jaskier smiled, resting his chin on Geralt’s shoulder. “I see you flush with arousal. I see you squirming every time I twist my wrist when I stroke you...just like that,” Jaskier said, demonstrating his point with a wrist flick. Sure enough, Geralt shook at the shiver that went up his spine. 

It was as he shook that Jaskier pressed the first finger inside of him. Geralt panted, and he could see Jaskier watching his reaction as he shook.

“Shit, you’re gorgeous,” Jaskier said, continuing to stroke him even as he pressed his finger deeper.

Geralt took it easily. It felt good, and Jaskier was gentle about it even if Geralt could take it.

Jaskier met his eyes in the mirror as he pulled his finger back before pressing it in again. He smiled and pressed a kiss to Geralt’s stubbled jaw.

Geralt felt the discomfort of watching himself receive pleasure mix with the pleasure of Jaskier’s touch itself, and it was strangely powerful. He felt Jaskier’s touch more acutely, and every stroke of his cock left his head swimming.

“Hmm, there he is. Tell me what you see, my wolf,” Jaskier said, continuing to watch him even as he pressed a second finger into Geralt.

“I see my cock leaking over your fingers.”

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Jaskier asked, looking down his chest at the mess he was making. Geralt could see his eyes widen, and then he bit his lip. “Whoa, that is a thing of beauty,” Jaskier answered his own question, and Geralt couldn’t help agreeing if that was the response it caused.

“Want you to keep watching as I fuck you, yeah?” Jaskier asked when he finally removed his fingers once Geralt was thoroughly prepared.

“Mm.” 

“Yeah?” Jaskier repeated, and Geralt could feel his eyes on him.

“Yeah.”

“Brilliant. Breath for me,” he said, pressing the head of his cock against Geralt.

Geralt watched Jaskier’s face as he slowly sank in, and he was left breathless both from the feeling of being filled and from the pure bliss on Jaskier’s face. 

Jaskier caught him watching as he opened his eyes, but instead of scolding him, he smiled. “I think you understand me when I talk about what I see when I look at you,” he said, beginning to rock into him. “You just can’t see it when you’re the focus, but you’re worth watching as much as I am.”

“Hmm.”

“Look as you will. I won’t tell you where to focus,” Jaskier gave him permission before taking Geralt’s hands and guiding them to the wall on either side of the mirror. Once Geralt was braced there, he began to fuck into him in earnest.

It was overwhelming to watch, but Geralt couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way Jaskier touched his body and the way Jaskier kissed his skin or nuzzled him. He felt overwhelmingly loved as he felt Jaskier practically engulfing him.

“You’re perfect. So tight,” Jaskier mumbled as he rolled his hips sharply. “Want you to watch us come.”

That had Geralt’s pulse racing as Jaskier began to stroke him again. 

“You are a vision when you come. Want you to see it.”

Geralt gut twisted with embarrassment even as it mixed with arousal. 

“Will you watch yourself come for me?” Jaskier asked, snapping his hips and finding Geralt's prostate. 

Geralt’s vision swam for a moment, but he met Jaskier’s eyes in the mirror and nodded. Jaskier promised he wouldn’t hurt him. 

“So good,” Jaskier said, cradling Geralt to his chest and rotating his hips as he grinded against him.

Geralt groaned, feeling his gut tighten and watching his body jerk in Jaskier’s embrace.

“That’s it. Right there, aren’t you? Just a little…” Jaskier snapped his hips forward and twisted his wrist on the next stroke.

Geralt gasped as his balls tightened. He watched his jaw go slack as his cock twitched in Jaskier’s hold, and he painted the mirror as he came hard. Jaskier’s bright eyes watched him, and pressed a kiss to his neck even as he continued to rock his hips twice more before his own expression went slack. 

Jaskier held his gaze even as his rhythm wavered, and he leaned his weight against Geralt’s back. His cheeks were flushed, and his face was covered in sweat, but he was lovely. 

They both stayed there, kneeling on the carpet holding each other’s gaze in the dirty mirror.

“Beautiful.” It was Geralt who said it this time, and Jaskier bit his lip before nuzzling Geralt’s cheek. 

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Mm.” Geralt removed his hand from the wall to cradle the back of Jaskier’s head. “Going to need a minute.”

“Right. Sorry. I’m hopelessly cuddly.”

“We...can cuddle. Just need to clean up and calm down.”

“Okay. take your time. Just not too much time or your daughter might try to fake some other illness,” Jaskier mumbled against the skin of his neck.

Geralt laughed, smacking Jaskier lightly.

“Right, too soon.”

Jaskier helped him up before letting Geralt go. Geralt went into the bathroom and took a quick shower since he had to anyway. He made himself mediate as he stood beneath the water. He focused himself and calmed his body before turning the water off and just standing there for another couple of minutes. 

When he stepped out of the bathroom, Jaskier had removed his clothes and was sitting on the edge of the bed. “I set an alarm, so we won’t fall asleep and miss picking Ciri up.”

“Mm.” Geralt walked around the bed and picked up his phone. “Go clean up, and I’ll call her school.” He stopped in front of Jaskier and leaned down to steal a chaste kiss.

Jaskier nodded, and by the time he returned, Geralt had called the office and left a message. Jaskier joined him on the bed and returned to pressing his head to Geralt’s chest. Their legs tangled together, and Jaskier stroked Geralt's stomach while Geralt ran his fingers through Jaskier’s hair.

“Was that okay?” Jaskier asked softly.

“Hmm.”

“I know not everyone likes seeing themselves. I just happen to really like watching in the mirror.”

“It was good. Uncomfortable is good. Trust you.”

He could feel Jaskier’s smile against his skin. “You don’t know what that means to me.”

“Hmm. Rest. Ciri isn’t going to go easy on you today.”

“I trust you to get me home alive.”


	8. Gentle Explorations

Jaskier waited in his car while Geralt went up to Yen’s apartment. He’d been warned that Yennefer had a hit out on his testicles, and he really wasn’t willing to tempt fate. Geralt may have been forgiving of his missteps, but he doubted Yennefer was so forgiving. In fact, he knew from experience that she was not forgiving in the least.

He still regretted what he’d said. He didn’t know Geralt’s story, and he knew there was definitely a story there. Yennefer wasn’t one to give so much slack without very good reason. Ciri herself had never bemoaned Geralt’s absence, only saying that her father had a really nice house that she loved to visit. And Geralt himself had mentioned PTSD, though that was as much as he’d said. 

“Don’t fuck it up,” Jaskier told himself, strumming his lute which he’d picked up after insisting Geralt swing by his house. He couldn’t exactly go hiking in yesterday’s waistcoat. He’d swapped it out for a purple one that popped with the pale yellow shirt he wore beneath it. Geralt had muttered about inappropriate hiking gear, but he hadn’t demanded that Jaskier change. Jaskier did put on his most comfortable pair of boots before picking up his lute case. It was easier to carry than a guitar.

Jaskier jumped, when Yennefer tapped on his window. He gave her a wide eyed look as he mimed that he couldn’t roll down the window because Geralt had taken the keys with him. He ignored the fact that the keys were still in the ignition...and the car was still running.

“Open the damn window, Jaskier.”

“Can’t hear you, Yennefer.” He called through the glass.

“I swear, Jaskier.”

“What?” He pointed to his ear and squinted at her.

Yennefer rolled her eyes as Geralt stepped outside with Ciri balanced on his hip like she wasn’t far too large to carry that way. Though Jaskier supposed that she wasn’t too large for Geralt to carry that way because he supported her weight easily with one arm. In his other arm, he carried her backpack. 

“No threats, Yen,” Geralt said, helping Ciri into the back seat of Jaskier’s car, proving it had been unlocked the whole time. 

“They aren’t threats.”

“Then no castration before lunchtime,” Geralt said, leaning on the back door of the car and looking Yennefer in the eye. Jaskier watched them seem to have an entire conversation without a single word.

“Fine,” Yennefer said at last. “I’ll be ready when you drop her off though.”

“She wasn’t happy about the heater trick,” Ciri said, sounding rather deflated.

“No, I don’t suppose she would be,” Jaskier commiserated.

“I did it just like you told me,” Ciri added, clearly confused that it hadn’t worked.

“I am sure that you executed it flawlessly, Ciri. Perhaps Yennefer is just a bit more observant than my parents were.” It had been over a decade since he’d seen his family, but that admission still twisted in his gut as Geralt walked around the car and slid into the driver’s seat.

“She won’t actually castrate you,” he grumbled, clearly assuming Jaskier’s expression was a result of Yennefer rather than his own sordid childhood.

Jaskier turned and gave Geralt his most dazzling smile. “I assure you that if she hasn’t taken them yet, she won’t get them now. I have had far more determined people after them than Yennefer.”

“Mom thought it was funny,” Ciri chirped.

Geralt sighed.

“I thought you were upset?” Jaskier asked, turning to Ciri who had brightened up already.

“I am. I was so sure it would work, but Mom laughed when dad called and said he’d take me hiking. She called him a sucker.”

“I should drive you to school,” Geralt grumbled.

“But then you’d have to admit to lying to Mrs. Jackson, even Mom wouldn’t do that. She’s scary.”

“She’s a school secretary.”

“A scary one.” Ciri gave them a dire look through the rearview mirror.

Geralt just shook his head as he drove them out of the city toward the highway. The car was quiet for all of a minute before Jaskier turned on the radio, and he and Ciri began to sing along to some terrible pop song that would no doubt be played multiple times on their drive no matter the duration of the trip.

Jaskier and Ciri were in the middle of belting out their third duet when Jaskier noticed that Geralt was white-knuckling the steering wheel. Reaching over, he moved to touch Geralt’s thigh, but Ciri reached forward and pushed his hand away. 

“The volume,” she said, pointing to the radio.

“Shit.” Jaskier reached forward and turned the radio down.

“Sorry, Dad,” Ciri said quietly once the radio was off.

“You don’t need to turn it off,” Geralt gritted out, but his knuckles were still white, and Jaskier was pretty sure he was just being nice.

“It’s okay. It wasn’t a great song anyway,” Ciri said, sitting back again.

“Seat belt,” Geralt said, glancing into the back seat.

Ciri grumbled, but she put her seat belt back on and pointedly stared into the mirror at her father.

“You okay?” Jaskier asked softly, hands itching to touch Geralt but knowing it wasn’t a good idea if he wasn’t ready for it. Ciri had probably been right to slap his hand away.

“I’m fine.”

“Your knuckles say otherwise,” Jaskier said, pointing at where Geralt still gripped the wheel tightly.

Geralt sighed, taking one hand off the wheel and reaching for Jaskier. Jaskier happily took his hand and let Geralt gently clasp their fingers.

“I’m fine. You two can listen to your music. It was just loud,” he said, giving Jaskier’s fingers a squeeze before turning the radio back on to what Jaskier hoped was a tolerable volume and not just what he hoped would make Jaskier and Ciri happy.

Neither Jaskier or Ciri went back to singing though. Jaskier let the music wash over him, but he tried to keep the noise down in the confines of his car.

“I could’ve driven,” Jaskier said for the third time that morning. “It is my car after all. Do you even have a license?”

“Yes, I have a license.”

“Good to know.

“Like I told you before. I know how to get there. It’s just easier than giving you directions.”

“You don’t think I can take direction!” Jaskier said, affronted.

“He’s not wrong,” Ciri chirped from the back seat.

“Ciri! How can you betray me like this?”

“Jaskier told mom he knew how to fix the sink because he fixed his bathroom, but the kitchen flooded, and mom had to call Uncle Lambert to fix it. She was pissed,” Ciri ratted him out.

“She said she’d shut the water off!”

“You always check,” Geralt said softly.

“Well, I know that _now_.”

“He also—”

“You know what, Ciri? Maybe let’s not reveal all of my most embarrassing slip ups to your dad all at once,” Jaskier cut her off before she could come out with something else.

“You were doing great, Cub,” Geralt said, reaching back and squeezing her knee.

“Dad does dumb stuff too.”

“Is that so?” Jaskier said, grinning across at Geralt who seemed perfectly comfortable with anything Ciri might share about him.

“Yeah, like when he lets me watch movies too loud and gets a headache. Or when he gets confused and calls after I go to bed.”

“Got me there, Cub,” Geralt said, glancing at Jaskier and very clearly expressing that this was not the moment to unpack that comment.

The ride took almost an hour. They drove north of the city into the hills toward the mountains. They took one scenic road to another while Ciri named every bit of wildlife she saw through the window. It was a fairly relaxing ride, and Jaskier and Ciri kept each other entertained while Geralt drove quietly.

When they finally pulled into a winding driveway, Ciri was practically vibrating with energy. 

“Does Uncle Eskel know we’re coming?” she asked, knees bouncing.

“Mm. Texted him.”

“Is he going to come hiking?”

“Doubt it. He worked last night, Cub.”

“Aww.” She seemed disappointed for all of thirty seconds before she was pressed to the window watching a small cottage come into view. 

The house was surrounded by trees, and Jaskier could see the beginnings of multiple trails as they pulled closer. There was a single truck parked in front of the house despite there being a large garage nearby. 

As soon as Geralt pulled the car to a stop, Ciri had her seat belt off and was out of the car. Geralt watched her bound across the driveway toward the house.

“Before we go. Eskel…he has some scars. Just don’t stare. He says he isn’t sensitive, but…”

“Of course,” Jaskier said, leaning across the console and pressing a kiss to Geralt’s shoulder.

“He knows, you’re…” Jaskier waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Mm.”

“And about...your _interests…_ not that it matters. Obviously, I’m not going to...you get the idea.”

“Mm.” Geralt shook his head, looking unbelievably fond for a moment. “He caught me sneaking in after the first time, and saw the damage when I took my shirt off. Rubbed aloe on my back and ass because my Domme left nasty welts.”

“Right, okay. No worries then about disapproving family.”

“He’ll probably disapprove, but not because of that,” Geralt said, getting out of the car.

“Why would he disapprove?”

Geralt gave him a once over and shrugged.

“I resent that! What is wrong with my outfit?” he demanded, following Geralt toward the house.

“Fuck, the Cub said you’d brought a boyfriend not a clown,” a gruff voice came from the front step of the house.

Jaskier spun to see a massive man holding Ciri upside down by one ankle as she giggled. He was looking between Geralt and Jaskier, and Jaskier could tell he had significant scarring on his face.

“Not my boyfriend,” was all Geralt said as he walked up to the man and pulled him into a hug with Ciri still hanging between them. The hug devolved into a bit of a wrestling match with Ciri swinging gleefully by her ankle, seemingly unconcerned with the prospect of being dropped. They continued to push and grapple with each other until Jaskier cleared his throat.

Jaskier tried not to let that comment sting since it had only been two days, and they’d never had a formal conversation about it. It still stung.

“Cub says otherwise.” Eskel pulled back and patted Geralt on the cheek.

“The cub has ulterior motives.”

“I can hear you,” Ciri called, tugging at Geralt’s pant leg.

“As can I, the _not-boyfriend_ ,” Jaskier said, placing his hands on his hips.

“Eskel, Jaskier...Jaskier, Eskel,” Geralt said, waving between them in turn.

“Nice to meet you,” Eskel said, holding out the hand that wasn’t still holding Ciri.

“If she ends up vomiting, you’re taking care of her,” Geralt grumbled, lifting Ciri from Eskel’s arms before he could shake Jaskier’s hand.

Ciri beamed at her father as he set her back to rights, tucking her hair back into place once her feet were on the ground.

“So, a not-boyfriend,” Eskel said, stepping into Jaskier’s space looking very stoic.

“ _Eskel_.”

“Yes, we met at Yennefer’s on Saturday, and we shared a lovely Sunday together,” Jaskier met the man’s eyes with chipper resolve. He would not be frightened.

“Hope it wasn’t too lovely. None of the trails around here are easy,” Eskel said, turning and eyeing Geralt.

Geralt let out a put upon sigh as he helped Ciri put on her backpack. “Don’t be a dick, Eskel.”

“Yeah, that’s Uncle Lambert’s job,” Ciri added excitedly.

Eskel burst out laughing. “I should tell him you’ve been telling the cub mean things about him.”

“That was mom,” Ciri continued helpfully.

Eskel only laughed harder at that bit of information. “Right, well, there’s food in the kitchen if you’re planning on being out there all day. 

“Mm.” 

They followed Eskel into the cabin, and Geralt raided Eskel’s kitchen for a solid fifteen minutes while Ciri harassed her uncle, and Jaskier tried to be helpful but really just stood to the side and watched it all happen.

Eskel seemed as gentle with Ciri as Geralt was, letting her talk his ear off despite clearly being exhausted. Jaskier smiled when he caught Eskel sneaking a candy bar into Ciri’s backpack before Geralt returned with a pack full of provisions.

“Don’t get lost. Not up for coming to rescue your ass,” Eskel said, clapping Geralt on the back as Geralt herded Ciri out of the house, removing the candy bar and dropping it onto a chair as he went.

Jaskier was impressed, but he also snatched up the candy bar and tucked it into his own pack as he headed out the door after them. Eskel gave him a discreet nod as he passed him. He felt like he’d won his approval if only briefly.

The path through the forest was not narrow, but it was by no means easy. Geralt seemed so natural at it as he easily stepped over fallen branches and trees or scaled scrambles. Ciri was good at it too. When something was too high for her, Geralt either climbed up first and pulled her up, or he let her piggyback on him and still managed to scramble up massive rocks without trouble.

Jaskier was not so graceful, but he kept up. He dodged limbs that he only saw at the last moment because he was composing a song in his head, or staring longingly at Geralt’s ass. An ass that seemed to be giving Geralt no trouble at all despite their morning’s activities. 

Perhaps Jaskier was a little annoyed that he was the one who seemed to be suffering from aching muscles. After all, it wasn’t as though he was unfit. He just wasn’t expecting to have to climb a damn mountain on this little excursion. Especially with a ten year old in tow. However, Ciri happily traversed the path as though mountain climbing was second nature to her.

“You okay?” Geralt asked, kneeling on the ledge above where Jaskier stood after having climbed up with Ciri on his back. Ciri was standing just behind Geralt, watching Jaskier with wide eyes.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jaskier asked, sounding affronted even to his own ears.

“You’ve been muttering about mutants born to scale mountains like goats,” Geralt said, holding out his hand like he intended to pull Jaskier up the same way he might with Ciri. It was thoughtful, but Jaskier doubted it would work.

“Have I?” he mused, and Ciri nodded at him. “Well, I am fine. Just not used to this sort of hiking.”

“What kind of hiking are you used to?” Geralt asked, grabbing Jaskier’s hand and hauling him up which forced Jaskier to scramble onto the ledge gracelessly.

“My god, what do they feed you? I am nearly your size, and you just threw me up here like I weighed nothing.”

“Didn’t throw you,” Geralt muttered, standing up and helping Jaskier to his feet. His hands were gentle as he held Jaskier securely. He even reached forward and pushed a sweaty strand of hair out of Jaskier’s eyes. “We’ll take a break when we get to the top.” There were another two ledges before they got to the top, and Jaskier wanted to whine.

“I’m fine, really,” Jaskier said instead. “I won’t hold you back.”

“Not holding us back. This is for fun, Jaskier.”

“Well, I don’t know about that.”

“What kind of hiking do you do, Jaskier?” Ciri asked, clearly not put off by the change in conversation.

“Oh, you know...walks...around the campus where I work?” 

“You don’t go hiking do you?” she sounded disappointed in him.

“I...I—”

“Not everyone has a place to go hiking and camping like you do, Ciri, especially in the city,” Geralt said, lifting Ciri up and pressing a kiss to her head before depositing her on the next ledge.

“Will I get the same treatment if I look cute?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt rolled his eyes, but before Jaskier could work up the ambition to conquer the next ledge, Geralt grabbed him by the hips and gave him a boost. This time it was very much like being tossed, and Jaskier scrambled to pull himself onto the ledge with no warning.

By the time Jaskier had himself to rights, Geralt had pulled himself up as well with no trouble. Jaskier was more than a little upset that he had not been prepared to enjoy Geralt’s biceps and shoulder’s flexing and had only caught a fleeting glimpse before Geralt was kneeling on the ledge beside him.

“Spot her,” Geralt grunted, nodding to where Ciri was scaling the next scramble nimbly. 

It was much lower than the last, and with a hop she had her arms up on the ledge. Jaskier stood behind her, watching her easily pull her weight up and over the ledge. Once she was settled, Jaskier gave himself a mental shake and vaulted himself up onto the ledge. Ciri grinned at him as he made it. 

“Get her to the top. Ledge isn’t big enough for three,” Geralt continued to direct him, standing on the ledge below.

Jaskier looked at the next ledge. It was higher than Ciri was tall, and he bit his lip. “You sure you don’t want me to come back down?” he asked.

“Trust you,” Geralt said, patting his boot. 

“Right...well let’s go, Ciri,” he said, taking her by the hips and lifting her over his head. She easily gripped the ledge and pulled herself over. She beamed down at him as he smiled up at her.

“Hold the ledge,” Geralt ordered.

Jaskier did as he was told, and he realized why when Geralt swung himself up and knocked into him in the small space. Jaskier continued to cling to the ledge even as Geralt got to his feet. It was cramped with two men their size.

Geralt nodded at the ledge Ciri was sitting on. Jaskier looked at it and felt a little queasy. It was at his shoulders, so it really shouldn’t be that terrible. He had plenty of upper body strength, but the rapid ascent and the realization that they were very high off the ground was unsettling.

Jaskier opened his mouth to say he was fine, but Geralt gripped the ledge beside his hand and stepped behind him, pressing him against the rock face. The effect was instantaneous. That was an overwhelming sense of relief as Geralt pushed his body against him.

“Slow breaths.”

“Do I look that bad?” Jaskier asked, resting his head on the ledge.

“Had the look in your eye,” Geralt whispered in his ear, so even Ciri wasn’t likely to hear it where she was sitting with her feet dangling over the ledge, kicking out gently.

“What look?”

“The one I get when drop hits.”

“I’m not—”

“No, you just realized you’re halfway up a mountain standing on a small ledge with no safety net.”

“Way to make me feel better.”

Geralt kissed his cheek roughly. “Just have to pull yourself up and you’re at the top.”

“Right. Just have to pull myself up,” Jaskier said, taking a few slow breaths and enjoying the way Geralt felt behind him even if they had his lute case wedged in there as well, half off to the side. “I’m good.” 

Geralt stepped back and grabbed Ciri’s ankles as she playfully tried to kick him. He was so nimble despite his size, and he seemed completely comfortable on the small ledge.

Jaskier nodded and jumped; he braced his arms on the ledge and pulled himself up. He felt Geralt’s hand on his back as he dragged himself over the edge and onto the top of the rock. He crawled away from the edge and found a nice flat area to collapse on as he waited for Geralt.

Geralt pulled himself up with little fanfare, once again doing so quickly and without so much as a grunt of exertion. 

“How?” Jaskier asked, flopping on the ground with his lute beside him.

Ciri giggled as she laid down beside him. 

“You should see the trails by Dad’s house. There are a few that only him and my uncles can do because they’re so dangerous.”

“Wonderful, now I can worry about you hiking with your terrifying brother,” Jaskier huffed, pushing up himself to sit.

“Grew up doing it,” Geralt said with a shrug, like he hadn’t just pushed himself, Ciri, and Jaskier all up the scramble. 

“Of course.”

“Couldn’t make that instrument sound nice to save my life. Different skills,” Geralt said, nodding at the lute as he reached down to take Jaskier’s hand and help him up. Then he wrapped an arm around Ciri and threw her over his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” Jaskier said, nudging Geralt with his shoulder, hoping he understood why he was thanking him.

“Hmm. There’s a nice spot a little further where we can have lunch.”

“You mean a picnic?” Jaskier asked, charmed by the idea. He’d watched Geralt pack enough food for a small army, but for some reason he hadn’t thought about a picnic.

“Lunch.”

“But we’ll be sitting...in what is probably a scenic place...with plenty of food,” Jaskier clarified, regaining the spring in his step as they continued on.

“Lunch.”

“It can be lunch _and_ a picnic, Geralt.”

Geralt seemed more flabbergasted by the idea of picnics in general than he seemed against it. Jaskier wondered what kind of man seemed to regularly eat in nature but had never heard of a picnic. 

Ciri gave him a look that told him it wasn’t worth convincing Geralt that lunch and picnics could overlap. So, Jaskier just continued on beside Geralt, Ciri riding on Geralt’s shoulder happily pointing out different birds she spotted.

Jaskier knew immediately when they came to the place Geralt intended to have _lunch_. It was breathtaking. It was a little meadow on the ridge of the mountain, facing into a valley. Spring flowers were in bloom as they stepped into the soft grasses that were already thriving. 

“Oh this is...something out of a dream,” Jaskier said, looking out at the view. The sky was such a vivid blue with hardly a cloud in sight, and the sun practically made the valley glow as budding leaves caught the light.

“Uncle Eskell calls it the edge of the world,” Ciri said, coming to stand beside him after having climbed down from Geralt’s shoulder.

“Oh, I love that. Here at the edge of the world,” he said, mind wandering to the beginnings of a song. 

Ciri slipped her hand through his and gave it a squeeze as they both looked out. Eventually, Ciri wandered back, but Jaskier stood there composing in his head. 

When he finally turned back, Jaskier gasped. “Geralt, this is a picnic. I will take no criticism on this. You even brought a checkered blanket!” he shouted, shocked to find Geralt and Ciri sitting on a huge picnic blanket with a truly impressive spread of food. 

“Hmm.”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Jaskier said, wagging his finger at Geralt as he walked over to the quaint picnic that Geralt and Ciri had set up while he was daydreaming.

“Sit down, Jaskier,” Geralt said, holding up a plate of food.

“Because you asked so nicely,” Jaskier snarked, taking a seat on the blanket across from Geralt. He happily took the offered plate and began to dig into the delicious sandwich and interesting vegetable salad. 

“This is way better than Mrs. Foster’s math class,” Ciri proclaimed as she stuffed her mouth with food. 

“School is important,” Geralt said, polishing off his own sandwich and unwrapping a second.

“This is still better.”

“Mm.”

“Education shouldn’t be taken for granted,” Jaskier said, stuffing some of the vegetables onto his sandwich and moaning at the combination.

Both Ciri and Geralt were watching him as he swallowed.

“What?”

Both of them shook their heads, going back to their own food. They ate as Geralt asked Ciri about some of the plants and birds they saw, and Ciri answered with surprising knowledge of each different species and variety. 

“What do you do if you lose your way?” Geralt asked, finishing up his third sandwich. Jaskier wasn’t sure how the man ate that much, especially after their other outings where he’d eaten very human portions.

“Get my bearings…” Ciri started, and Jaskier’s mouth went slack as she carefully outlined the steps to finding shelter and gathering wood and food. It was terrifyingly precise, and it suddenly made the possibility of becoming lost real to him. 

“We aren’t…” he began, looking around.

“We’re on a familiar trail, and Eskel knows where we’re headed. Even if something happened, he’d find us by sundown,” Geralt said, somehow not sounding annoyed or amused by Jaskier’s concern.

“I promise, I will get the hang of this. I’m just a bit out of practice. I used to take adventures when I was younger. I’ve just been adventurous in different ways in recent years,” Jaskier said, finishing his own food.

Geralt gave him a subtle smile, but it was enough to warm Jaskier’s heart.

“Cub. Find me a Jack in the Pulpit,” Geralt said, and Ciri jumped to her feet.

“You’re just going to let her run off?” Jaskier asked, watching Ciri disappear into the trees.

“She knows this mountain like the back of her hand.”

“And what about bears or wolves?”

“She won’t go too far.”

“You do this often?”

“Mm. Come here,” Geralt said, pulling Jaskier to him and kissing him slowly.

“You cad. You sent her away to have your way with me,” Jaskier said, slapping Geralt’s chest before letting his hand linger.

“We’d do this whether or not you were here, but it has added benefits,” Geralt said, tipping Jaskier’s chin up and kissing him more softly this time. 

“This place is beautiful.”

“Mm. Eskel’s got a nice property.”

“Is this all his?” 

“A lot of it. It’s up against land owned by the kingdom, so he doesn’t have to worry about neighbors.”

“And what is your home like?” Jaskier asked, leaning into Geralt and smiling when Geralt pulled him into his arms.

“I live next to a lake. It’s easier to get to by plane than car. It’s quiet, save for the wolves.”

“That sounds like the edge of the world more than this.”

“No. It’s the heart of it. Everything is lush and untouched. The stars light up the whole sky at night. Maybe I’ll show you one day,” Geralt said, sounding wistful.

“I think I would like that very much. Though, I can’t promise it will be quiet if I’m there.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to say something, when Ciri bounded into the meadow looking excited. 

“Found them,” she proclaimed, holding out her phone and pointing to the picture she’d taken.

“Mm. Six minutes. Not bad. How about a stick bug?”

Ciri narrowed her eyes in thought before taking off again.

“You’re going to wear her out,” Jaskier said, pressing into Geralt until he laid down and let Jaskier stretch out on top of him.

“Probably,” he said, reaching up to push Jaskier’s hair out of his eyes.

“I would love to take you apart right here.” Jaskier looked down at Geralt, cupping his jaw with one hand and bracing himself with the other.

Geralt hummed, wrapping an arm around Jaskier’s waist. “What would you do to me?” Geralt asked, voice gravelly and seductive. It wasn’t much different than his usual voice, but Jaskier could practically taste the intent behind it.

“Ciri could come back at any moment.”

“Not asking you to strip me and fuck me. You’ll hear her coming. She’s ten; she doesn’t know what quiet is.”

“Yes, I may be able to stop talking, but if I start I might not be able to hide _other things_.”

“So don’t stand up, or put your lute in your lap.”

“You are a menace.”

“Mm.”

“Very well, I would strip you bare I think...Lay you out for me on this picnic blanket. Then I think I would tie you up shibari style. Make you a work of art. Then I would feed you by hand. Juicy fruits, and the juices would dribble down your throat, and I would lick you clean…” Jaskier leaned down and dragged his tongue along Geralt’s throat, savoring the groan it pulled free of him.

“Mm. Would you blindfold me?”

“Of course. I’d want you focused on that beautiful birdsong that rings out through the valley. Remind you of how free we are out here.”

“Poetic.”

“You inspire me,” Jaskier said, resting his chin on Geralt’s chest and smiling. “I love it here, even if I had to climb a mountain to get here.”

“Mm.”

“If you could have me at your mercy here, what would you do to me?” Jaskier asked, laying his ear to Geralt’s heart and listening to the steady beat.

“I already do,” Geralt said, stroking his fingers through Jaskier’s hair.

A shiver went through Jaskier’s body. “You’d feed me more food than I could possibly eat then lie with me in the grass?”

“Can’t really imagine something nicer,” Geralt said, sounding so sincere that Jaskier’s heart ached with fondness.

“No, I don’t think I can either actually,” Jaskier admitted.

“Found one!” Ciri shouted, still crashing through the underbrush as she approached them again.

Jaskier made to move, but Geralt held him in place. 

Ciri didn’t even bat an eye as she held out her phone for Geralt’s inspection. He studied it carefully and nodded before giving her another quest. It went on like that for over an hour as Ciri explored the surrounding woods with unwavering enthusiasm.

Jaskier laid with Geralt for a while before his fingers began to itch for his instrument, and he spent the next hour playing tune after tune. Geralt continued to lie on the blanket, and eventually Ciri collapsed onto him. Finally, she settled her head on his stomach and fell asleep with a smile on her sweet face.

Geralt continued to watch him play with an unreadable expression on his face even when Jaskier made up songs about their adventure. His fingers combed through Ciri’s hair as she slept.

Jaskier wasn’t sure how long they’d been there when the sunlight took on the golden glow of late afternoon. He looked up from the song he’d been working out for the last hour or some to find Ciri had curled into Geralt’s side, and Geralt had dozed off at some point.

“Oh.” He watched them rest peacefully together. Geralt’s arm was wrapped securely around Ciri’s body, and his head was tipped down like he’d fallen asleep while pressing a kiss to her head. Jaskier pulled out his phone and took a picture before taking out a notebook to scribble out some lyrics.

When Jaskier looked up again, Geralt was watching him. He lifted the arm that wasn’t holding Ciri, and Jaskier went to him like a moth to a flame. 

“Shouldn’t we be going soon?” he asked even as he settled his head on Geralt’s shoulder. 

“Mm. Can wait a few more minutes.” They laid there watching the changing light and the birds of prey that soared over the valley from time to time.

When they finally did pack up their picnic, they were all quiet. Jaskier could hear the sounds of the forest all around them, but there was also a strange tranquility that seemed to mute it all.

The hike down the mountain was winding, but there were no scrambles. 

“You mean to tell me that there was a path up the mountain that did not involve scaling a cliff?” Jaskier asked, turning as he walked and waving his arms out wide.

“Never said there wasn’t,” Geralt retorted, carrying Ciri on his back.

Jaskier was carrying both his lute and Geralt’s pack to allow Ciri to be transported. She was only half awake as Geralt shifted her to his front in case she let go of his neck. It was terribly endearing, and Jaskier wasn’t sure that his heart would recover from the day.

“Next time, I would like the non near death experience route, or maybe we could go to the coast for a day instead.”

“You did fine,” Geralt whispered, adjusting Ciri slightly.

“Not the point, but your overwhelming approval for my performance is noted.”

“Hmm.”

“I should punish you for that.”

“Wouldn’t mind if you did.”

“Which is why I won’t.

Geralt snorted, and Ciri mumbled something in her sleep before settling again. She had Geralt’s hair in a death grip, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m sorry for what I said this morning. It is very clear that your relationship with her isn’t impeded by distance.”

“You don’t nee—”

“I do. You deserve to hear it whether or not you think you do.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier shook his head fondly at Geralt’s go to response when emotions became too much. Instead of pushing, he stepped closer and pressed a kiss to Geralt’s shoulder as they walked side by side.

Eskel was sitting on his porch when they arrived. He was dressed in all black, and Jaskier could tell he was ready to go to work. He’d gathered that he and Geralt worked together.

“I see he survived. Though, I can’t say the same for his shirt. You take him up the scrambles?” Eskel asked, standing up.

“Mm.”

Jaskier looked down at his outfit. It was covered in dirt, and there were scratches on his forearms and a few tears in his shirt. It was not his best look, but he felt accomplished.

“Client called. Expanded the guest list. It checks out, but that doesn’t mean they won’t bring others,” Eskel said, sounding grim.

“Let me get her settled, and I’ll get ready,” Geralt told him, turning to Jaskier.

“Would you mind taking her back to Yen’s?” Geralt asked.

“No, of course not. Everything alright?”

“Should be, but more guests means we have to reconfigure some things. I can—”

“No, I got this. We’ve kept you to ourselves all day.”

“Thank you,” Geralt told him, carrying Ciri to the car. “If Yen gives you shit, remind her that I dumped Ciri on you, and she’ll want to castrate me instead.”

Jaskier smiled. “I’m not worried about Yennefer doing my nuts any harm. She’ll lose a free babysitter for when itches need to be scratched if she does me in.”

“Call if there’s a problem. GPS should get you out of here easily.” Geralt pressed a kiss to Ciri’s forehead and told her to be good as she woke briefly.

“Be safe,” Jaskier said, pulling Geralt in for a kiss. He ignored Eskel who was standing only a few feet away making pained noises.

“I’ll call you when I’m in town.”

“You could call me before that. I’ve been told I have a great voice for phone sex,” Jaskier whispered, though he had a feeling Eskel still knew what he’d said judging by the snort.

“We’ll see.”

“I suppose we will.” Jaskier kissed him again before walking around the car and sliding into the driver’s seat. He glanced back at Geralt once more before pulling down the long driveway.


	9. Bad Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for chapter warnings

Eskel was watching him from the driver’s seat as they drove toward the city. Geralt tried to ignore it, but his brother was far from subtle. Not that he was trying to be. 

“If you keep watching me instead of the road, we’re going to be painting the guard rail,” Geralt grumbled, pointedly looking away from Eskel.

“Wouldn’t be the first time. So...a professor?” 

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Ciri tell you that?”

“No, Ciri told me his name, even spelled it for me. The _internet_ told me his profession. Did you know his family is some sort of minor nobility? It also showed me his profile for that horrible website you use for hookups,” Eskel said, finally looking at the road ahead. It seemed that even he had his limits when discussing Geralt’s life choices.

“You are aware that most people’s siblings don’t look up their FetLife profiles?” Geralt asked, adjusting the seat to lean back further.

“You’re the idiot who came home covered in welts like I wasn’t going to notice in our _shared_ room,” Eskel pointed out, punching Geralt in the shoulder. “That aside, he seems…”

“Like a fool?”

“That is certainly one word for it.”

“Mm.”

“You don’t do relationships.”

“I have a child.”

“Is that proof that you have relationships or a reason that you don’t?”

“Fuck off, Eskel.”

“I just want to know how this happened?”

Geralt sighed, tuning his brother out as he continued to try to pull information out of him. By the time they reached their destination, Geralt had a low-grade headache from his brother’s persistent interest in his love life. 

Lambert was already waiting for them when they arrived, and he scowled as he watched them get out of Eskel’s ancient truck.

“This whole thing is fucked. Guest list keeps changing. This estate is a goddamn mess. How he hasn’t been murdered in his sleep yet is mind blowing. There is an entire section of fence missing in the back that’s closed off with a few lines of razor ribbon, like fucking wire cutters don’t exist. The front gate closes slower than a turtle fucks, and I’ve fucking had it with the guy’s personal guard,”Lambert reported angrily.

“Glad to see you’re in a good mood as always, Lambert,” Eksel said, grabbing the younger man around the neck and trying to ruffle his short hair.

“Fuck off,” Lambert grumbled, wiggling out of Eskel’s arms and kicking him in the ass.

“Lambert, you’ll take the grounds with your crew. Eskel will support security at the gate, and I’ll handle the house,” Geralt delegated before walking toward the house itself to meet with the mayor and his security contingent.

The mayor was an idiot who Geralt had dealt with multiple times. His head of security and Geralt had never gotten along, and it was honestly a miracle that they even continued to hire Geralt. 

It was going to be a long night, but it was a lucrative job. He just needed to make it through six hours of obnoxiously wealthy people enjoying another obnoxiously wealthy person show off.

* * *

Geralt stepped into the bathroom and opened his backpack. He removed the bottle of pills and tapped out his dosage into his palm before tossing it into his mouth. He waited for it to dissolve before he turned on the sink and leaned down to take a mouthful of the tap water. Then he took a seat on the edge of the tub and centered himself.

Lambert was right. This party was a mess. That was just from the security standpoint. He hated jobs where the clients believed themselves invincible simply because they had enough money to pay for top rate security. No amount of security could fix outright stupidity, and Geralt found those to be the hardest jobs. When no suggestions were followed, when guest lists changed at the last moment, or when clients failed to disclose pertinent information simply because they didn’t want to.

Gripping his thighs, Geralt thought back to how he’d woken that morning with Jaskier in his arms warm and happy. He thought about the way Jaskier had touched him and praised him. Opening his eyes, he stared across the bathroom at the mirror over the vanity. He tried to see what Jaskier had, but all he saw were bags beneath his eyes and years of pain etched into his skin.

Sighing, Geralt picked up his pack again and removed several knives that easily slid into pockets in his uniform. He took out a baton since he’d be in close quarters, and slid it into the loop attached to his belt. 

Taking one last look in the mirror, he pulled his pack over his shoulder and walked out of the bathroom. He went out of Eskel’s car and placed his bag in there before heading off to do one last check in before guests began arriving. 

* * *

Geralt’s head was killing him. The music inside the house was grating, probably to drown out the sounds of the guests. They hadn’t been informed until they arrived that it was a massive sex party, but Geralt found himself walking through room after room of countless powerful people engaged in a whole variety of sex acts. It wasn’t the first time he’d done security for such an event, but it wouldn’t be the last either. They weren’t that uncommon, but they always made Geralt queasy from the sheer multitude of sounds and smells.

Geralt cringed as several people reached out to him as he walked through one of the larger rooms to check the balcony doors. He had been involved in plenty of orgies, but this wasn’t anything he wanted to be involved in. He wouldn’t have been surprised if some of them unhinged their jaws at the end and devoured their partners. 

The door was still locked, thankfully, so Geralt moved on to the next room. It was the smell that was really getting to him. There was dozens of people covered in sweat and sex, and it left him feeling like his skin was trying to crawl off his skeleton. His lungs felt half filled with fluid in the heavy air. Then there was the incense and oils that only made it all worse.

Geralt felt like he might vomit several times when he entered smaller rooms filled with too many writhing bodies. Seeing people having sex didn’t bother him, but in the poorly ventilated house it was all too much. 

“Geralt,” Eskel said over the comms.

“Hmm.” 

“We’ve got a problem at the gate. We’ve got a name crossed off the list, but I have a man standing in front of me that insists it’s him, and he has ID.”

“Fuck. Did you let the other one in?”

“I must have been taking a leak. I don’t remember the name.” Eskel sounded thoroughly annoyed which probably meant the front security was giving him a headache while completely fucking up the basic job of checking identification. 

“Could it be accidentally crossed off.”

“Don’t think so. Security swears they checked IDs, and everything checked out.”

“Fuck. Send me the picture. I’ll see what I find,” Geralt said, looking down the empty hallway. He didn’t even know where to begin. There were too many rooms, and too many dark corners to hide in. 

“You want back up?”

“No, keep your positions,” Geralt said, looking at the picture Eskel sent him. It was vaguely familiar.

Geralt turned, and headed back toward the main wing where the larger groups were. He calmly walked through several, seeming to check the perimeter again. He didn’t see anyone who could pass for the man in the picture in the first room. The second had a man with similar hair color, but he had a mole of his face that even shitty security wouldn’t have been able to ignore.

Moving on, Geralt felt dizzy as he stepped into the third room. Someone was smoking, the stench of sex was particularly potent, and they had incense burning. Not to mention the noise. 

Geralt gritted his teeth as he stepped inside. There was a woman laid out on a chaise with a man at each end. Another woman knelt beside the chaise, sucking on the first woman’s breasts while she was taken from behind. There were others touching and fucking around them, and Geralt circled the frenzied performance with disinterest until a man in the corner caught his eye. 

He sat in a wing back chair, and he was mostly dressed save for his cock which was covered by the mouth of a woman kneeling in front of him. Geralt eyed him carefully as he walked around the room, trying not to arouse suspicion.

However, Geralt could feel the man’s attention as Geralt wove his way to the windows he’d previously checked. He could feel cold eyes on him as he bent to check the vent, like ventilation could even fix the smell in this room. If this was Geralt’s house, he would’ve burned it down after this party, or perhaps during.

Geralt was rising from the vent when he realized the man didn’t even have is cock out. The woman was pretending to suck him off. Sighing internally, he sent off a message to Eskel and Lambert. 

“Lambert, mind the perimeter. I’ll head inside,” Eskel said through the earpiece as Geralt made his way toward the man. 

Geralt was still several feet away when the man pushed the woman aside and charged straight at him. Geralt took the impact directly into the wall, but it wasn’t enough to stun him. He quickly grappled with the man who was significantly weaker than him.

However, suddenly everyone was screaming. The volume, combined with the smells and the smoke irritating his eyes, left Geralt gritting his teeth as he kept himself focused on his assailant. 

People shoved and tripped over one another to get away from them as Geralt threw the man over the now abandoned chaise. He vaulted over the chaise himself to follow the man who was trying to roll to his feet. 

Geralt grabbed the man by the arms and shoved him down. “Who are you?” he demanded.

The man didn’t respond, trying desperately to wiggle free of Geralt’s hold. Geralt shoved him down harder, pinning him to the plush carpeting. The room really had no hope of ever removing the smell in here.

Geralt was about to let Eskel know he had the situation under control when he felt fire blaze into his shoulder. He grunted as a body jumped onto his back as something dug into his shoulder. 

Rolling with the new attacker, Geralt threw them off only to realize that it was the woman who hadn’t been sucking the man off. He muttered a curse under his breath at his own stupidity as he saw the small knife in her hand, covered in what he presumed was his blood.

Geralt got to his feet and stalked over to her. She swung the blade at him again, and he dodged it as he grabbed her arm and squeezed it until her fingers dropped the knife. However, she kneed him in the groin as she released it, and Geralt grunted in pain. He managed to bring her to the ground, but the other man was getting up.

Reaching for the knife, so the other man couldn’t get it, Geralt left himself open to attack. However, Eskel shoved his way into the room between screaming guests before the man could get to Geralt. 

Eskel didn’t waste time asking questions. He speared the man into a wall before hitting his head against it roughly. The man crumpled to the floor as Geralt subdued the woman. 

“Why the hell does it smell like a dozen guys beat off in here?” Eskel asked, choking on the noxious air as Geralt got to his feet.

“Because they did,” Geralt grumbled, blinking as the world tilted around him. Suddenly, he was reminded of the fire in his shoulder, and the bite of it flared again trying to consume him.

“Whoa there, what...shit. You got stabbed,” Eskel said, grabbing him before he could fall down. 

“Hmm.”

“Shit. Lambert, get the med bag. Shift teams. Geralt’s been stuck like a pig,” Eskel called over the comms.

Geralt just looked between the two intruders and the horrified guests peering through the door, and he groaned. 

Then the mayor shoved his way into the room wearing nothing but what looked like a cock ring.

“What the hell is going on here?” the stout man demanded, seeming to have no shame about his state of undress.

“You had some intruders,” Eskel pointed out as Geralt tried very hard not to lose his lunch. 

“I have a mess. Guests are terrified and screaming. This monster over here brutally attacked a man.”

“A man who used someone else’s name to get in here,” Eskel said very diplomatically.

“See if you get paid—”

“If you’d rather, we can just let these two enjoy themselves with their cameras,” Geralt said, refusing to lose a night’s pay after this mess.

“Cameras?” one woman demanded, trying to hide herself behind another person.

“You’re just trying to stir up trouble,” the mayor accused, but Geralt approached the man Eskel had knocked unconscious and patted him down before finding several devices.

Eskel shook his head and looked at the mayor. “That can’t be good.”

The vein in the mayor’s neck looked dangerously close to exploding, and Geralt sighed. It was going to be a _long_ night.

* * *

“That party was completely fucked, pun fully intended,” Eskel muttered as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot. He’d insisted Geralt get checked out when he realized how deeply he’d been stabbed in the shoulder. The doctors put several stitches into the wound, but it wasn’t life threatening.

“I wish I had no sense of smell,” Geralt grumbled as they drove.

“I would too if I’d been in there all night. The fucking mayor smelled disgusting as he chewed us out wearing nothing but a cock ring. I am scarred. Did you see Lambert’s face when we left him there? Looked like he was going to beg to get stabbed too just to get out of there,” Eskel laughed, reaching over and patting Geralt's thigh.

Geralt flinched at the contact, still not fully recovered from the evening. 

“Where are we going?” Geralt asked when he realized they weren’t headed for Eskel’s house.

“Your boyfriend’s.”

“Why would we go to Jaskier’s?” Geralt asked, ignoring the fact that Eskel knew the man’s address.

“He’s your boyfriend…”

“He isn’t.”

“...and you just got stabbed. Most people want to see their loved ones after being attacked.”

“I want to go to sleep.”

“And you need to unwind or you’re going to hurt yourself,” Eskel finished, giving him a pointed look.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re about as fine as that carpet that was covered in multiple loads,” Eskel said, giving a whole body shiver as they were both forced to remember where the stain on Geralt’s pants had come from, and how they realized that several people just came right on the carpet.

“I need a bath,” Geralt grumbled, looking down at the discolored spot on the knee of his pants. He would be burning the whole outfit when he got home. He just needed to get home.

“Look, you’re not going to sleep at my place. You never do. I always catch you hiking at dawn after a sleepless night. Just go to this guy’s place. Let him fuss. Maybe let him wear you out. Get some rest, and if you need me to pick up in the morning, you can always call,” Eskel said, pulling the truck to a stop in front of Jaskier’s small ranch. 

Geralt looked out the window caught between the anxious hum in his skin and the desire to wrap himself in Jaskier. He tried to quiet the voice in his head that told him Jaskier didn’t want to be bothered by him. However, it stuck there, and when he glanced at the clock on the dash he almost demanded Eskel take him back to his place anyway. It was nearly two in the morning.

“He’ll forgive you,” Eskel said, nodding for Geralt to get a move on.

Geralt sighed. Eskel wasn’t going to budge, and if they continued to sit parked in front of the house at two in the morning, someone was going to call the police.

Geralt got out of the truck before pulling both his work pack and hiking pack out of the cab. 

“Should’ve let Lambert drive me to the hospital,” Geralt grumbled and was met with laughter.

“One of you would smother the other in his sleep if you had to spend the night there. Go get laid, and stop being a pain in my ass.”

“Fuck off. I drag your sorry ass home just as often as you do mine,” Geralt said, flipping Eskel off before closing the door on his brother’s laughter.

Walking up the driveway, Geralt almost turned around. He’d thought about coming here while the doctor was putting stitches in his shoulder. He’d thought about falling asleep on Jaskier’s chest like he’d done that day on the couch. He’d also thought of the horror he’d find in Jaskier’s eyes when he saw the bandage and the inevitable questions that would be asked. He could clearly picture the eventual disgust when it came out that his job was violent and morally gray. People didn’t really think past the surface when it came to security, but when they were faced with the reality that he had to make uncomfortable decisions in the blink of an eye many became uncomfortable.

Geralt flinched as the motion sensor lit up the front lights. He stood on Jaskier’s front stoop squeezing his eyes against the sudden brightness but also in hopes that he could hold the inevitable at bay.

Lifting his hand to knock, he thought better of it. He took out his phone and typed out a text, then deleted it. He wrote another and deleted that too. Staring at his phone, he considered calling. He didn’t want to wake Jaskier, knowing that he was probably exhausted after their hike that day.

“Fuck,” Geralt sighed as the lights went out. His movement turned them back on again, and he wondered how long it would be before the police took the choice out of his hand.

Geralt wasn’t sure how long he’d been out there when the front door opened.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice was a bit rough. He was wearing an over-sized t-shirt and flannel pants as he stood in the doorway with a bat in his hands.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you should’ve rang. I kept seeing the light turn on and off, and at first I thought the raccoons tripped it because they do that on garbage night a lot. But then I thought what if it’s a murderer which seems silly now that I think it through, but I thought I’d check it out. Have you been out here long?” he asked, motioning for Geralt to come inside without ever asking why he was there.

Geralt looked at his watch and realized he’d been out there for the better part of an hour. That wasn’t good. It hadn’t seemed like that long. 

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Geralt apologized again, stepping aside, so Jaskier could shut and lock the door.

“Don’t worry. I can sleep through anything really. Just having a bit of a rough night sleeping myself,” Jaskier said, leaning the bat against the wall between the shoe rack and the coat hanger.

“Mm.”

“Is that blood?” Jaskier asked, turning to actually look at Geralt. Here it went.

“Yes.”

“Shit, are you okay?” Jaskier asked, stepping forward and touching his shoulder lightly.

“Yes. Got a few stitches…”

“You went to the hospital?” Jaskier shouted, and Geralt flinched hard at the volume right beside his ear. “Sorry, sorry,” Jaskier said much more quietly. “Are you alright? What happened? Why didn’t you call? I would’ve met you there.”

Geralt grunted, answering nothing.

“ _No_. You don’t get to show up at three in the morning with fresh stitches and then refuse to tell me what the hell happened to you,” Jaskier said, standing directly in front of Geralt and throwing his shoulders back.

“I got stabbed.”

“You...wh—stabbed? As in with a knife? A blade?” Jaskier asked, making a stabbing motion in the air just in case he hadn’t been entirely clear.

“Mm.”

“Who stabbed you? Why?”

“A woman named Fringilla Vigo. As far as I could gather, she belongs to a group set on taking down powerful politicians. Her and her partner snuck into the party I was doing security for to catch some of the guests in compromising positions,” Geralt explained, sighing at the whole mess.

“So she stabbed you?” Jaskier was very stuck on this.

“I was trying to apprehend her partner at the time.”

“Melitele’s tits. You could’ve been killed.”

“I wasn’t. The doctor said the muscle tearing will heal, and I should regain normal function.”

Jaskier dramatically gripped his chest like he was having a heart attack. It was almost endearing...if Geralt wasn’t beyond exhausted while still being completely wound up. He didn’t want to have to comfort someone else about something that had happened to him. It happened. He just wanted to go to bed. 

Actually, he wanted to call Ciri and hear her voice, but it was three in the morning, and he didn’t want to have to pretend to have gotten confused by the time when in fact he was sitting in a hospital room again. One day she was going to catch on that his confusion was actually brushes with death that left him longing to hear her voice and know she was okay. He just hoped he could put that revelation off until the teen years when she’d probably hate him anyway.

“Geralt, that doesn’t sound fine at all. That sounds like it could have very easily been catastrophic,” Jaskier said, clearly trying not to sound rattled, but fidgeting like he was dying to touch Geralt.

“It’s part of the job. I’ll be fine,” Geralt shrugged it off, or he would’ve if he was able to shrug at that point.

“What can I do?” Jaskier asked, reaching out and taking Geralt’s hand in his. 

Geralt sighed, trying to think of something Jaskier could do that wasn’t asking entirely too much. “Just help me get my shirt off,” he said, knowing it was going to be a pain to get off, and it would give Jaskier an opportunity to fuss.

“Of course, come on.” He led Geralt through the dark house by his uninjured hand and stopped when he reached the bedrooms. “There’s room in my bed...but I cleaned out the spare room if you want privacy…”

“Not going to sleep.”

“But do you want to not sleep alone, or do you want to do it in my room?” Jaskier asked, trying to put some of the weight behind his words that he used during scenes, but he sounded small and concerned instead.

“Spare room...but you can...stay?” Geralt tried.

“Right. Okay,” Jaskier said, stepping into the spare room and walking across the dark room to a small lamp on the nightstand. 

It didn’t give off too much light, and Geralt was relieved as he walked over to the bed. Jaskier smiled at him and reached for the buttons of the black shirt he’d worn to work. 

“The whole black on black look is very mysterious,” Jaskier said, slipping the buttons through the holes efficiently. 

Geralt sat with his hands resting on his thighs as Jaskier worked. He didn’t bother to respond, realizing this was just Jaskier’s usual stream of consciousness and not something he actually expected replies to. It was soothing. Jaskier’s voice was a constant.

“I’d like to take you out looking like this. Everyone would be jealous of what a stunning man I managed to snag. Can I have that hand? Thank you.” Jaskier took Geralt’s right hand in his and unbuttoned his cuff before pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. He traded it for the left hand, giving it the same treatment as he rambled about how lovely Geralt’s hands were. 

Geralt let the familiarity of it wash over him and ease some of the tension beneath his skin. His head was still a mess. The headache wasn’t likely to ease up for a long time, but Jaskier’s steady voice wasn’t making it worse. 

“Going to ease it down your arms now,” Jaskier said, positioning Geralt’s arms in a way that strained the injury the least. Geralt still gritted his teeth, but Jaskier pulled the shirt down and off quickly.

The small gasp that followed wasn’t unexpected.

“It’s a big bandage. The wound is small,” Geralt said, knowing exactly what Jaskier was thinking. He’d eyed the large bandage dubiously when the doctor used it. 

“Should your arm be stabilized?”

Damn.

“They gave me a—”

“Where is it? Why aren’t you wearing it?” Jaskier demanded softly. 

Geralt could see his hands flapping out of the corner of his eye, knowing Jaskier wanted to touch but wouldn’t do so without permission. It twisted something in his stomach, wanting to let Jaskier comfort him, but knowing it wouldn’t end well.

“Don’t like to be constricted,” Geralt said, shifting so he could look Jaskier in the eye. 

“Would you please wear it...for me?”

Geralt took a deep breath. This was why he wanted to go to Eskel’s. Eskel didn’t ask anything of him. He just left him to his own devices. It was an understanding that they had from years together. 

“It’s in my backpack,” Geralt said, nudging the work pack he’d carried in with him.

Jaskier got off the bed and opened the main compartment. It took him all of a second to remove the sling. He carefully lifted it over Geralt’s head and settled it before guiding Geralt’s injured arm into it. He talked the entire time, just little bits of nonsense that came to mind. When it was all settled he went about adjusting it until he looked at Geralt with sad eyes.

“Jaskier…”

“What if she’d been a few inches higher? What if she’d gotten a second stab in?” Jaskier sounded gutted as he looked at him.

“It’s the job.”

“Right...because your life is disposable for the sake of some rich asshole.”

“Jaskier…”

“It’s no wonder you can’t see yourself in the mirror. Everyone just sees you as a tool. That’s got to twist how you see yourself eventually,” Jaskier said, sinking to the floor in front of Geralt and resting his head in Geralt’s lap without asking.

With his free hand, Geralt ran his fingers through Jaskier’s messy hair. He didn’t say anything because Jaskier wasn’t really wrong. He just continued to touch him gently, soaking in Jaskier’s ever-present voice. It wasn’t Ciri’s chiding lilt when he called at a late hour, but it was soothing just the same.

Geralt didn’t know how long they sat like that, but Jaskier’s voice kept him grounded. The weight of his head in Geralt’s lap reminded him where he was. 

Eventually, Jaskier sat up again, running his fingers through his own hair to fix the mess Geralt had made of it. He blinked up at Geralt with a pain in his eyes that twisted Geralt’s gut.

“What do you need?” he asked again, squeezing Geralt’s knee. 

Geralt didn’t have an answer for that. His head was spinning between the headache, the crashing adrenaline, and Jaskier’s concern. It was all a lot on top of the itch beneath his skin that was desperately trying to tear him apart at the seams and free itself. 

A part of him wanted sex just to clear his head for a moment, but he doubted he’d be able to do much of anything. Geralt shook his head, not willing to voice his desires.

“Tell me.” Jaskier commanded.

“I’m fine.”

“That isn’t what I asked. I asked what you need.”

“I need nothing.”

“Then what do you want?”

Geralt sighed, knowing Jaskier would not be deterred by semantics.

“A blow job.”

“That is something I can definitely do. It is a talent of mine, in fact. Now, was that really so hard?” Jaskier asked, smiling up at Geralt brilliantly. 

“Shut up, Jaskier.”

Jaskier just continued to smile as he reached for Geralt’s belt and unbuckled it. His hands were steady and sure and he pulled the zipper down and patted Geralt’s thigh to encourage him to lift. He pulled Geralt’s pants and underwear down his thighs then paused to unlace his boots and pull them off before removing his pants completely.

It was a familiar juxtaposition, sitting naked while Jaskier was clothed. Something about it eased a little of the tension in Geralt’s body.

“Let me know if it’s too much...or not enough...or just anything. I want to know if it’s okay.” Jaskier sounded frustrated. For a man who had a much better command of words than Geralt, he seemed to be struggling. 

“I’ll let you know,” Geralt promised, and Jaskier’s shoulders seemed to deflate.

“Don’t let me hurt you.”

“I promise.”

Jaskier smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to the inside of Geralt’s thigh. It felt nice. It didn’t leave him aching with need the way Jaskier’s touch and kisses often did, but it was a balm. 

Geralt rested his palm on Jaskier’s shoulder, not guiding him but letting him know he was there. This seemed to spur Jaskier on.

Leaning forward, Jaskier pressed a kiss to the hair at the base of Geralt’s cock. Then he nuzzled him, pressing several soft kisses there and pressing his nose to Geralt’s skin.

Geralt wasn’t hard. He wasn’t sure he’d get hard either with how much his body was at odds with itself. 

Jaskier took his cock in hand and stroked it gently as he licked the head. His other hand carefully massaged his testicles. 

Geralt sighed, enjoying the subtle arousal that settled in his gut. 

Jaskier took him into his mouth and softly sucked him despite how soft he was. He took most of Geralt into his mouth and rested his head against Geralt’s thigh as he sucked him. 

Geralt’s skin still itched, and his head throbbed, but this settled something rabid inside of him. He wished he could hear Jaskier’s voice as well, but he didn’t want to give this up. He moved his hand to comb through Jaskier’s hair once again, and he felt Jaskier hum around his cock. Tiny sparks of pleasure mingled with the itch.

Jaskier didn’t force the issue. He continued to suck Geralt softly, taking breaks to stroke him here and there. He seemed to sense that Geralt wasn’t looking for a mind-blowing orgasm, and he kept his touch light and gentle.

Geralt settled into the sensation, focusing entirely on Jaskier. The heat of his mouth as he took all of Geralt’s cock, and pressure of his head against Geralt’s thigh. It was easy to focus on Jaskier rather than the stomach churning smells of earlier that evening. It was easy to know Jaskier’s touch from the phantom touch of violent hands and the lingering burn of the knife.

Heat slowly built in Geralt’s gut, and he grew harder. He wasn’t fully hard, but it was enough that Jaskier needed to use his hand to make up the difference in what his mouth could no longer reach. 

Geralt bit his lip, feeling some of the buzzing recede into the background which allowed him to enjoy the touch of Jaskier’s mouth fully. He ran his fingers through Jaskier’s hair and tugged at it gently, causing Jaskier to moan around his cock.

Jaskier pulled back, looking up at Geralt with adoring eyes. He stroked Geralt slowly, smiling at him as Geralt groaned softly.

“This might be my new favorite view of you. I love watching you on your knees, but looking up at you while I bring you pleasure is special,” Jaskier said, pressing a kiss to his belly like he wasn’t a sappy mess. 

“Mm.”

“What was that? You want me to tell you how beautiful you are when you look at me with half-lidded eyes? I think I can manage that.”

Geralt snorted, tugging Jaskier’s hair playfully. 

“Let’s see, the color of your eyes practically glows in the low light, and it does wonderful things to my insides. And that half smile you’re wearing, like I’m amusing you but really you’re content.”

Jaskier wrapped his lips around Geralt’s cock again, taking him deeper and slowly moving his head up and down the shaft. Once again, there was a pleasant roll in his gut, but never overwhelming.

This went on for a while, Jaskier keeping the arousal building slow and steady, and easing back periodically to keep it from cresting. The headache was still there though not overwhelming him. The itch beneath his skin was just a slight buzz. Geralt floated in that bubble of soft pleasure that managed to push its way past the inferno raging around him.

Geralt wasn’t expecting it as Jaskier squeezed his testicles and took him as deeply as he could. The pleasure washed over him in a slow roll that erased some of the pressure in his soul as he sagged, fingers releasing Jaskier’s hair.

“There we go,” Jaskier whispered, wiping what had spilled from his mouth over his chin with the back of his hand. He sat back and just watched Geralt, giving him his space. “Now, what do you need?”

Geralt was quiet for a while, continuing to absorb the pleasure he felt while it lasted. Slowly the buzz crept back, and the pressure in his skull flared.

“Just speak to me... _softly_ ,” Geralt said, pressing the heel of his hand to one eye socket. 

“Now, that I can happily do,” Jaskier said with a smile. “I spoke to Yennefer when I dropped Ciri off, and she didn’t even threaten my person when she realized you’d left me to drive Ciri home. Very clever trick. She offered some of her wine which is not something to pass up, so I may have only dragged my sorry ass home about an hour before you arrived.”

“Mm.”

“Your daughter teased me mercilessly about my inability to climb mountains…”

“I’ll tell her not to be rude.”

“No, no. I was fine. I simply pointed out that _I_ was not the one carried down the mountain in your arms...to which she accused me of being jealous, but that is beside the point,” Jaskier continued, smiling fondly. 

Jaskier continued to speak about different topics, his voice steady and constant. Geralt found himself floating in Jaskier’s presence. The buzz beneath his skin was a low hum, and the ache in his skull had receded enough that he wasn’t in a fog. He just _was_ , and he settled into the state of existence, tethered by Jaskier’s voice.

He stopped hearing the words so much as the cadence of Jaskier’s voice as Jaskier did something or other around the room. It was peaceful and intimate, and Geralt let himself fall into the calm of it. It pushed the chaos back into the shadows if only for a little while.

Geralt wasn’t entirely aware of when exactly Jaskier stopped speaking, but eventually he realized that his voice wasn’t there anymore. Opening his eyes, Geralt realized Jaskier had turned off the lamp, and that he was no longer in the room.

Tension crept up Geralt’s spine. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been alone, or where Jaskier had gone, and it put him on edge. 

Geralt closed his eyes again and tried to center himself. He tried his breathing exercises, and he tried to meditate, but he could feel his skin begin to tighten.

Something touched his cheek, and Geralt jerked. Suddenly, the tension tipped over into something uncomfortable. The pleasant warmth in his belly became fire that made him dig his nails into his skin hoping to distract himself. 

“Shh, it’s just me. I want you to take a deep breath for me. You’re almost panting,” Jaskier’s voice was right beside his ear, and his palm rested on Geralt’s chest. The touch singed his aching skin. “Breathe for me.”

Geralt took a shuddering breath, pushing down the fight or flight response that was threatening to take over.

“There we go. Again?”

“Where?”

“What? Oh, I told you I had to piss...but I guess you didn’t hear me.”

Geralt growled as he took another steadying breath. He felt foolish, but even that was twisted and tainted by the unsteadiness in him. Even as he got a hold of himself, the pleasurable tingles became needles in his skin making his skin feel too tight. The sensation of floating became a free fall, and he felt completely untethered. He couldn’t move his one arm, and the other gripped his thigh painfully.

Fingers kept touching him, burning him. A knife sinking into his flesh, skinning him alive. 

With a growl Geralt lashed out, sinking his teeth into flesh which he only vaguely realized was someone’s shoulder. He could feel the skin give way even as his mind was chaos. 

Jaskier’s pained grunt was enough to make the tightening in his skin flare. Geralt pulled back, growling as he tasted copper on his tongue. Everything felt wrong.

“Hey, hey. Come here,” Jaskier’s voice broke through the roar in Geralt’s ears. It was soft even if it was slightly strained. “I’m right here. Didn’t go anywhere. I have you.” Jaskier continued to speak softly into his ear, but he didn’t try to touch Geralt again.

Geralt’s whole body buzzed with tension, but Jaskier’s voice continued to be a balm. Slowly, his breathing evened again and his skin stopped feeling like it was being prodded with tiny needles.

“There he is, my beautiful white wolf,” Jaskier’s voice sounded mesmerized as Geralt’s breathing finally returned to its regular cadence. “Is it safe to touch you?”

Geralt didn’t reply for a moment, realizing what he’d done to make Jaskier hesitate. He pulled away, feeling bile rush up his throat. He had Jaskier’s blood in his mouth. He’d hurt him.

“Don’t pull back. It’s okay. Just startled me,” Jaskier promised, keeping his voice level. “May I touch you?”

“Yes.” Geralt’s voice was strained, and he held his body tense as he waited for Jaskier’s touch. He wasn’t sure what he was anticipating more, a reprimanding hit or a restraining grip. He deserved both.

What he wasn’t expecting was a hand to cup the back of his head and pull him into Jaskier’s neck again. The shock of it was enough to leave Geralt dazed and douse the chaotic tension in his skin.

“I’m okay. Kiss me. It’s okay.” Jaskier’s voice was gentle as he guided Geralt’s mouth to the place he’d bitten him.

The trust Jaskier was giving him left Geralt reeling as he pressed his lips to the warm skin. Once he pressed one kiss, he couldn’t stop himself from adding another and another, begging forgiveness with each press of his lips. Praying that his lips were soft enough to soothe the ache he’d certainly left with his careless teeth.

“I’m okay,” Jaskier repeated, running his fingers through Geralt’s hair soothingly and letting him continue kissing his shoulder. 

Geralt settled into nuzzling Jaskier’s neck and throat, taking in that heady scent and using it to remain grounded.

“Where are we? Give me a color or something,” Jaskier asked, cradling Geralt’s head to his neck with enough pressure to keep Geralt from moving.

Geralt settled and let himself think and feel. “I don’t know.” Geralt didn’t know how to classify what he was feeling or how to process it. He was vaguely aware that it was a product of his night, and his old doctor would have plenty to say about it. However, he didn’t have the words for it.

“That’s okay. Just keep breathing for me,” Jaskier said, his voice firm but not angry.

Geralt settled into the sound of it again, soothed that Jaskier wasn’t angry. However, that didn’t heal the pit in his stomach at the knowledge that he’d hurt Jaskier. “I’m sorry,” Geralt whispered into Jaskier’s skin as though apologizing directly to the wound itself.

“It is done, and we will talk about it later when we aren’t like this. We’ll both be more careful. Just focus on my voice,” Jaskier said, running his fingers through Geralt’s hair. 

Geralt wasn’t sure how long they sat there, wrapped in each other. Eventually, Jaskier settled down on the bed and pulled Geralt down to join him. Geralt laid his head on Jaskier’s chest, avoiding lying on his own back. Jaskier continued to touch him until eventually his breathing evened out, and Geralt was left with silence and his own sins.

Carefully, he extricated himself from Jaskier’s embrace and went to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw the smear of blood on his cheek. He turned and vomited into the toilet before scrubbing his face. 

When he was finished, he retrieved gauze and antiseptic from the cabinet. He went back into the bedroom and carefully cleaned the wound he’d left in the meat of Jaskier’s shoulder. Jaskier didn’t wake, but he whined in his sleep. 

Geralt pressed soft kisses to his hair until he was satisfied the wound was clean. He coaxed Jaskier onto his side and placed a square of gauze over the wound and taped it down. Hopefully, it would hold until Jaskier woke, then he could decide what to do with it.

When Jaskier was taken care of, Geralt pulled his clothes on and removed his phone from his pack. He walked down the hall and into the kitchen before calling Lambert.

There was ice in his veins as he waited for his brother to pick up.

“Eskel said he dropped you at your boyfriend’s. If you’re calling to gloat that you got to leave early and got laid, I’m going to stab you too,” Lambert growled into the phone.

“Pick me up?” Geralt’s voice sounded foreign even to him. It was stiff and vacant sounding.

“You okay?”

“Just pick me up.”

“Yeah. Send the address, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Geralt hung up and sent the address, then he sat down at the kitchen table. He stared out the window at the predawn light that made the backyard glow silver.

It wasn’t long before Geralt’s phone vibrated, but before he could get up he noticed Jaskier standing in the doorway, his hand resting on top of the bandage Geralt had put there.

“Can I make you some coffee, since sleep doesn’t seem to be your friend?” Jaskier asked. He sounded tired but in good spirits.

Geralt swallowed thickly. He’d hoped to avoid this confrontation. He’d hoped that Jaskier could wake in the morning free of the dark cloud that was Geralt handing over him. 

“Lambert is picking me up.”

“It’s barely five…”

“I hurt you.”

Jaskier blinked at him like he was trying to connect the dots, but it wasn’t making any sense. “I’m not sure I see the connection,” Jaskier said, placing his hands on his hips. He clearly saw the connection, but he was choosing to give Geralt a hard time. Geralt wasn’t sure why he expected anything else.

“I hurt you. I didn’t…”

“Let me help you. You didn’t realize you were doing it. You got stabbed not twelve hours ago, and you reacted to stress by lashing out.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters very much to me. It matters that someone hurt you. It matters that you get hurt regularly and just brush it off. It matters that you are covered in evidence of other people’s disregard for you.” Jaskier’s voice raised with each point, and his arms were thrown out to the sides. “It matters you’re afraid to put your trust in anyone because you’ve clearly been hurt over and over. And it matters that you clearly have needs that you regularly ignore because they are inconvenient.”

“I don’t need anyone, and when people need me they get hurt.”

“You’d never hurt Ciri.”

“I hurt her every time I leave.”

“So, stop leaving, Geralt! Stop retreating. My shoulder’s going to heal. I’m not entirely certain you will if you isolate yourself and hop from scene to scene letting strangers take the edge off for a little while.” Jaskier stalked across the room and placed his hands on the table, standing directly across from Geralt.

“I need to go, Lambert’s waiting.”

“Let him wait.”

“I’m not going to put you in danger because I enjoy the sex we have. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not just sex. You helped me up the side of a cliff yesterday, and despite this…” Jaskier pointed to the bandage, then tore it away from his skin to reveal bruised flesh. “Despite this, I’d trust you to do it again, Geralt. Don’t try to save me from you. You aren’t the monster in this story.”

“Mm.” 

Geralt sighed, and looked out the beginnings of light filtering in through the window. His entire body was numb. A voice in his head told him to listen to Jaskier, but he couldn’t make sense of his own thoughts, never mind someone else’s.

“Lambert,” he said, rising from his seat.

“Fuck. Geralt—”

“Let me go, Jaskier.” He walked around the table and past Jaskier.

“Dammit, Geralt. Who's going to sleep on my chest while I watch Real Housewives of Redania?”

“Someone worthy of you.”

Geralt couldn’t classify the noise Jaskier made as he walked out of the room. It wasn’t pretty, and Geralt wasn’t even sure it was human. However, he could feel the agony in it. It matched something deep inside himself.

Picking up his bags by the door, Geralt walked outside to find Lambert sitting on the front step. 

“Let’s go.”

“Geralt, are you sure…” Lambert asked, looking around Geralt into the house.

“Mm.”

Lambert didn’t question him again, pulling the bags out of his hand and walking to his car. Geralt didn’t glance back at the house as he slid into the passenger seat. He couldn’t face what he was leaving behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: sex party, sensory overload, ptsd, violence, non-sexual biting


	10. What's Another Scar on the Hearts?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for this to take so long, but I rewrote this chapter several times because I wasn't happy with it, but I think I got it to where I wanted it.

Jaskier’s heart was pounding, and he could feel blood seeping into his shirt as he stood in his kitchen blinking at the space Geralt’s had been, not a minute before. Seeing him sitting there in the kitchen like he’d _belonged_ there.

“Someone worthy of you…” Jaskier mumbled to himself as he felt the tears threatening to fall. “Oh fuck you, you self-deprecating ass.”

Jaskier turned on his heel and marched through the house. He threw open the door without grabbing a coat or shoes and he walked across his lawn, glaring at the car Geralt was seated in. He picked up speed as the engine started and before they could pull away, Jaskier darted out in front of it, consequences be damned. 

The car jerked as Lambert slammed the breaks, and Jaskier banged his fists on the hood. He didn’t care that he looked deranged, hair a mess and shoulder bleeding. He knew his eyes were wild as he looked right into the car in the dim pre-dawn light.

“You fucking coward!” He slammed his hands down again, ignoring the pain that shot through them. “You do _not_ get to walk out after that like you are somehow saving me from something,” he continued to shout.

There was definitely no way the neighbors weren’t hearing this at six in the morning. He was certainly not going to be getting any barbecue invitations in the coming months at this rate. He’d be lucky if no one called the police. 

Inside the car, Jaskier could see Geralt and his brother having a heated exchange, complete with Lambert gesturing at Jaskier.

“Come talk to me like a fucking adult, Geralt. Enough running.”

Lambert was shoving Geralt at the door, but Geralt was clearly resistant.

“I can see you, you coward.”

Geralt looked up at him and Jaskier wasn’t prepared for how broken he looked. He wanted to go around the car to him, but he wouldn’t put it past Geralt or his brother to peel out if he moved.

It was Lambert who motioned with his head for Jaskier to go around the car. It could’ve been a ploy, but Jaskier had a sneaking suspicion that everyone in Geralt’s family was as fed up with his isolationism as Jaskier was. They’d certainly had to deal with it longer than he had.

Stepping around the car, he approached the passenger door and opened it. He didn’t say anything as he looked at Geralt who was buckled in with nowhere to go as Lambert killed the engine.

Jaskier could see him gripping his thighs, so he lowered his voice and sat on the damp grass. “Please don’t block me out.”

“You got coffee?” Lambert asked from the driver’s seat.

“Um...yes?”

“Good. I’ll be inside. Let me know when I can have my fucking car back.” Lambert got out of the car, taking the keys with him and walked across the lawn to Jaskier’s front door which was still wide open.

“Geralt?” Jaskier whispered after Lambert had disappeared into the house.

Geralt squeezed his eyes closed then looked straight ahead. Jaskier knew he was listening even if he wasn’t speaking.

“I get that it’s easier to walk away and close yourself off. I get that you probably have very good reasons for it, and that even Yennefer lets you do it without fighting you. I even get why you might be afraid of hurting me...I’m not saying you can’t walk away from this. I just...I’d like to be consulted before you cross me off your list. I’d…” Jaskier paused, sniffling and pulling his shirt up to wipe his nose on it. “...I’d really like it if I wasn’t so easily expendable.”

Geralt didn’t say anything, but he looked down at his own lap where his fingers had eased their grip on his thighs enough that his knuckles were no longer white. 

“You don’t have to talk, but if you’re willing to listen, I have some things to say. Otherwise...I guess I can go get your brother…”

“I’m listening.” It was a quiet rumble, but Geralt glanced in his direction for a brief moment. It felt like the whole world shifted as Geralt’s gaze met his.

“Right...okay, good. Oh boy, where to start?” Jaskier asked, not entirely prepared for Geralt’s acquiescence. He sniffled again as he thought, and he wasn’t expecting Geralt to reach into the back of the car and hand over a box of tissues. Jaskier gave him a weak smile.

“Take your time. Lambert can keep himself entertained.”

Jaskier tried to collect his thoughts quickly, not really knowing how long Geralt’s patience would last. He wanted to invite Geralt back inside, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Geralt was only listening because they were on neutral territory of sorts.

“Right, so I guess I’ll start with I find you unreasonably attractive. You probably got that from me making an ass of myself in front of you at the munch. That’s not really super important, but I just thought you should be aware of that. Secondly, we may not have had the smoothest first scene, and perhaps looking back on it I should’ve pushed for more explicit communication rather than accepting that you were open to what I wanted to do, but I have never felt so comfortable during a scene as the ones I’ve done with you.” 

Jaskier took a breath, looking up at the slowly lightening sky. His eyes caught the rapidly fading stars. Taking another steadying breath, he looked back at Geralt who was once again staring out the windshield, looking into the distance.

“The way that you are so focused on my voice...it makes me feel very visible, like I’m not just a prop...I know I’ve asked you to really see yourself and understand what I see when I look at you, but part of that was because I always feel seen when I’m with you. I don’t know if any of this makes sense, Geralt. I’m sorry. I just...yes, tonight was fucked up from start to finish. I don’t think either of us were prepared to deal with it, and what happened happened. However…”

Jaskier balled his fists, frustrated by his words abandoning him when he needed them most. He could feel the dew seeping into his pants, and the chill in the air was making him shiver, and nothing was going right. He felt helpless.

“However, I didn’t learn to play the lute overnight. I didn’t walk into my first lecture knowing the right way to teach a hundred students. Nothing I find remotely fulfilling in my life has been mastered immediately. I have fucked up. I have made my fingers bleed trying to master the right melodies. I have complete bungled lessons that should’ve been easy to teach. I have done mediocre scenes because I just had no idea how to make them better. I’ve been booed off stages, lost jobs, never heard from lovers again. I pray that when you look at me, you don’t see those things because I have worked myself to the bone to improve. And I really don’t want to leave us at tonight. I don’t want to think of us both hurt and bleeding. Not when I would really like to put in the work because I know how fulfilling this could be.” Jaskier wiped his nose on his arm, bowing his head because he didn’t know what else he could possibly say. 

Geralt was still silent as the grave, and Jaskier shook his head staring down at the grass. He squeezed his eyes closed, feeling the tears pricking at them. At least if they fell into the grass, they’d join the dew and no one would be the wiser.

Geralt’s hand rested on the back of Jaskier’s neck, and Jaskier startled from the unexpected contact. Looking up, he found Geralt's eyes on him as he wore an unreadable expression. Slowly, Geralt reeled him in to rest his head in Geralt’s lap, and Jaskier took a shuddering breath as he pressed his face to Geralt’s thigh. 

“You need to see a doctor about that bite,” Geralt said after a long stretch of silence.

“That’s what you have to say?” Jaskier asked, laughing in disbelief. “After I pour my heart out?”

“I don’t know what to say to the rest. I do know how easily bites get infected and how hard I bit you,” Geralt said, stroking his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. It was soothing, and Jaskier briefly wondered if this was how his touch made Geralt feel, like everything would be alright so long as his fingers kept combing through his hair.

“Right. I’m sure I’ll be fi—”

“If...if this is something that we continue...I know that you like to talk about things when…”

“They need discussion?” Jaskier suggested. He received a light tug to his hair for the remark, but even that was a relief.

“You know I’m not particularly good at that, but I know how to care...physically.”

“Are you saying this is your olive branch? Your meeting in the middle?” Jaskier asked, turning his head to look up at Geralt who was still looking out the window. 

“Hmm.”

“If I go to the doctor...will you go with me?” Jaskier asked, reaching up to touch Geralt’s jaw which was still clenched. He ran his fingertips over the stubble that was growing in. Geralt didn’t push him away, so Jaskier cupped his jaw and smiled as it slowly relaxed.

“Mm. I know one.”

“You know a doctor? Geralt, most people know a doctor. Some of them even go to see that doctor fairly regularly,” Jaskier teased, feeling the knot in his chest ease just slightly.

Geralt closed his eyes for a moment, clearly measuring his reply. “I know one who won’t ask questions.”

“Oh, _right_. I guess most people don’t show up with a human bite wound. They might think it’s the start of a zombie apocalypse or something.”

“Your brain is a marvel.”

“I know that you don’t mean that as a compliment, but I’m going to take it as one because I’m feeling very generous right now,” Jaskier retorted. “Geralt?”

“Hmm.”

“Will you come inside? My entire ass is wet from the grass, and it’s fucking cold out here.” Reluctantly, Jaskier sat up again, pulling away from Geralt’s lap. 

Geralt didn’t say anything, but he released the seat belt and stepped out of the car. He reached down and pulled Jaskier up to his feet. 

Jaskier caught the grimace on his face as Geralt helped steady him. It was only a flash, but Jaskier knew it was a sign of the pain he must be in.

“Are you okay?” he asked, keeping his voice soft.

Geralt sighed. “Pulled a few stitches when I twisted after I bit you. Just made it worse,” he said.

“Shit, let—”

“No. Just...I don’t want you to touch it.”

Jaskier recoiled, but he forced himself to relax. He could see how tense Geralt still was. He was still fighting whatever had started all of this. He understood that while running and hiding wasn’t the answer, staying here with him was costing Geralt something as well.

“Yeah, okay. But you’ll let the doctor?”

“Hmm.”

“Okay. I’m holding you to that.”

They walked back across the lawn and into the house. Jaskier could smell the fresh coffee as he walked with Geralt into the kitchen. 

Lambert was sitting at the island with a mug of coffee and one of the granola bars Jaskier kept in the closet. He was scrolling through his phone as he looked up at them.

“Kiss and make up?” Lambert asked, putting his phone down.

“Something like that…”

“Great, then I can leave you two lovebirds to it. Also, fuck you for making Yennefer win the betting pool with ‘Geralt tries to run away from responsibilities.’ If she asks, you ran away because of a sex injury, so I can at least claim half the pot. Actually, maybe make-up sex will send you to the hospital, and I can claim complete victory. Can I suggest throwing him over your shoulder? That should do a number on your stitches.”

“Fuck you, Lambert,” Geralt grumbled. There was no heat behind it, and Jaskier would’ve laughed if there was any chance they’d be having sex after the night they’d had.

“Don’t give me that shit. You’re the one that called me at the ass crack of dawn to come pick you up. I deserve something for my troubles,” Lambert continued to complain as he pulled on his jacket. “You need me for anything else, or can I get back to fucking sleep?”

“Thank you, Lambert, it...hasn’t exactly been nice meeting you this way, but I hope you won’t hold that against me.”

“Hmm, you’re the one who has to put up with his cheery bastard now, so good luck with that,” Lambert said, walking around them.

Geralt sighed as Lambert walked away.

“Oh, and call Yennefer. She’s fucking pissed. You made the papers.”

“Fuck.”

Jaskier squeezed his hand. “How about I call her after I get changed?”

Geralt looked down but nodded. He seemed to have long since used up his quota of words already, so Jaskier let it go. 

“Come with me?” Jaskier suggested, leading Geralt out of the kitchen. Geralt followed without complaint, always keeping Jaskier in his line of sight.

Jaskier stripped out of his pajama pants and bloody shirt as soon as they entered his bedroom, not even thinking twice about being naked in front of Geralt. Despite what had happened, he wasn’t put off by baring himself to Geralt. For his part, Geralt took a seat on the bed and just sat watching him with sad eyes.

“You’re shaking,” Geralt said as Jaskier pulled on a pair of sweatpants. His hands were shaking, and it was frankly a bit worrying.

“I am aware.”

“It’s shock.”

“Wonderful.” Jaskier was going for flippant, but it definitely came out as more of a whine.

“Come here,” Geralt said as Jaskier cringed as he pulled a new t-shirt on.

Jaskier went to him and as he got to Geralt, who was sitting on the edge of his bed—much as he’d been doing just hours earlier in the spare room—Geralt took Jaskier’s hand and pulled him into his lap. Jaskier tried to be careful of Geralt's arm as he straddled his thighs and settled in, but Geralt didn't seem concerned with the injury which had to be causing him pain.

Geralt trembled beneath him, but he pulled Jaskier to him and guided Jaskier’s palm to Geralt’s chest. It was warm beneath his hand, and he could feel Geralt’s heart beating steadily despite how stressed out he clearly was.

“Just breathe,” Geralt told him, holding him securely with his strong arms.

Jaskier followed the direction, and let his head rest on Geralt’s shoulder. “I thought you didn’t want to be touched,” Jaskier said after several minutes. He was still shaking, but this was definitely easing the quaking in his soul.

“This is different,” Geralt said, but it was barely more than a rumble in his chest. “I’m holding you, and I can see you.”

“Okay...thank you.” He knew that Geralt’s words meant more than what was on the surface, but his mind was also too scrambled to unravel it at the moment.

“Hmm.” Geralt rubbed his back and his arms, bringing warmth to Jaskier’s skin. 

Jaskier let the silence take over, knowing Geralt wasn’t exactly verbose on the best of occasions. Jaskier did hum a bit as Geralt rocked him like an upset child, and somehow it wasn’t patronizing but soothing. His strong arms felt safe even if Geralt was at least partially responsible for his current state.

It was a long time before Geralt helped him to his feet again. Then Geralt dug through his backpack and removed a large sweatshirt from it and helped Jaskier into that as well. Jaskier recognized it from the day they did their first scene. It was huge and heavy, and it smelled like Geralt. Jaskier burrowed into it immediately, and it actually helped him feel a little more secure as Geralt tied his shoes for him. 

“What a pair we make,” Jaskier said as they walked out to his car.

Geralt huffed as he slid into the driver’s seat. Jaskier wasn’t sure which one of them was less capable at the moment, but at least Geralt’s hands weren’t shaking noticeably.

The drive wasn’t long, but the silence was unsettling. Jaskier couldn’t help questioning his own actions and whether it was fair to demand Geralt do this. However, as Jaskier continued to fidget, Geralt reached over and squeezed his thigh before taking his hand and lacing their fingers. 

“We’ll be okay,” Geralt said, and Jaskier knew he was speaking strictly physically, but it still settled him nonetheless.

Jaskier took a breath as he got out of the car at the clinic, his hands were still shaking and he felt a bit sick as he looked at the drab building. 

Geralt got out as well and followed him into the facility, his hand resting on the small of Jaskier’s back. It was a small thing, but it eased some of the uncertainties swirling in Jaskier’s mind.

The woman sitting at the reception desk seemed nice as she smiled up at them. She didn’t even bat an eye at the fact that he had to look like he’d been through a hell of a night. He’d seen the shadows beneath his eyes before they’d left his house. 

“How can I help you this morning?” she asked in a pleasant voice. 

“I was bitten,” Jaskier said, hands fidgeting as he tapped on the counter top. He tried to give her one of his winning smiles, but he was certain that it came out as more of a grimace.

“Bitten? By a dog?” she asked, not sounding flustered at all.

“Um, no…” He fidgeted with his hands as he glanced around the almost empty waiting room. Only a lone man sat in front of the massive wall of windows, presumably waiting to be seen for something equally as ridiculous as a boyfriend related bite wound and non-boyfriend related reopened stab wound. Jaskier reassured himself that no one else would voluntarily show up to the clinic as it opened.

“Cat?” Still, she sounded like a bite was a completely reasonable injury to come to the clinic for, and Jaskier appreciated the things she must have seen in her time.

“A human...man…” Jaskier said awkwardly, pulling his shirt away to show the wound. Geralt was still standing right behind him, rubbing his back gently. It was grounding even if he knew this had to be twice as uncomfortable for him as the man who had bitten him. Though awkward seemed to roll off Geralt like water off a duck, and Jaskier could also appreciate what went in to cultivating that attitude.

The woman’s eyes widened for only a moment before she regained her composure. “Okay, I am going to give you some forms to fill out, and I will have the doctor see you as soon as he can,” she told him, grabbing a clipboard and placing several forms on it before pushing it through the window to him. “How long ago did this happen?”

“A few hours?”

“Did you sustain any other injuries?”

“Well, I mean my pride certainly took a hit, and my heart is feeling a bit tender, but I don’t think those are the sort of ailments one gets treated at the clinic,” Jaskier told her. He could feel Geralt pinch him lightly, but he ignored him. She asked.

“Right. Human bite wound sustained several hours ago. I will let the doctor know.”

“Thank you,” he said, turning and walking to a pair of seats in the corner, hoping to avoid having to sit near anyone else. Geralt took the seat beside him, creating a barrier between Jaskier and anyone else who might walk in. Jaskier reached for his hand, and Geralt laced their fingers as Jaskier began filling out the forms.

“She was lovely,” Jaskier said, squeezing Geralt’s hand.

“Fill out your papers.”

“Right. There are certainly a lot of them.”

“Hmm.”

Thankfully, there weren’t many people around to distract him. By the time he was halfway through his paperwork, the nurse was already calling his name.

“Is this your partner?” the nurse asked as she closed the door behind them and guided them down the hall.

“Oh...um...yes?” Jaskier looked at Geralt and cringed, not really knowing how to answer honestly.

“Hmm,” Geralt added unhelpfully, but he gave Jaskier’s shoulder a little nudge with his own. Still unhelpful, but at least he wasn’t attempting to dive out the nearest window and make a run for it.

“Okay,” she said, looking between the two of them with false enthusiasm. It was probably far too early to deal with other people’s labeling and relationship issues.

“I’m really just not feeling entirely great right now, and I asked him to come along,” Jaskier said, trying to sound slightly more diplomatic.

“Of course,” the woman said, giving him a soft smile. “You can wait in here. I’m just going to check your vitals, then Dr. Regis should be in in a few minutes.” 

Jaskier took a seat on the papered table while Geralt walked around the small office, examining the space. 

The nurse didn’t seem bothered by Geralt’s curiosity, and she got right down to questioning Jaskier about what happened. Jaskier gave her vague answers, avoiding any mention of Geralt himself and just saying a man he’d taken home. It was uncomfortable, and he was grateful for the distraction of getting his blood pressure and temperature taken. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Geralt. He didn’t sit in the chair that was available, and he never left his back to the nurse or the door. He eventually settled with his back against the wall, casually leaning against it, or at least he made it look casual. 

“Okay, your blood pressure is just outside the normal range, but given the circumstances that’s not unexpected. I’m just going to ask that you remove your shirt, and you can put this on,” she said, opening a cabinet and removing a disposable gown.

“Oh how very fashion forward,” Jaskier commented on the pale blue cover up. “Darling, do you think it will bring out the color in my eyes?”

Geralt snorted and rolled his eyes, but he came closer to help Jaskier out of his sweatshirt. He was quick about it but gentle with Jaskier’s aching shoulder. He didn’t even hesitate to begin lifting his t-shirt as the nurse stood there.

“Right. I’m going to step out, and Dr. Regis should be right in.” The woman assured them before slipping out of the room, trying to maintain a professional air.

“You frightened her off. She told me my blood pressure was good.”

“Not what she said. Do you take everything as flirtation?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jaskier said, turning his nose up as Geralt pulled the shirt over his head and laid it on the table beside Jaskier. “You okay?”

“Mm.” 

It wasn’t a lot to go on, but he told himself to trust Geralt to speak up for himself. 

Jaskier pulled on the little blue disposable vest. It hardly covered him when he actively pulled it closed, and when he didn’t his entire chest was visible.

Geralt actually laughed at how ridiculous Jaskier looked.

Jaskier looked down at the children's sized garment. “Why even bother giving me something to wear?”

Just then the door opened, and Jaskier pulled the cover up closed tightly. He could feel a small tear open in the back. This was just not his finest morning.

“Julian Pankratz?” the older man asked as he stepped into the room.

“Jaskier, please,” Jaskier said, smiling tightly at the doctor. The man was older, and Jaskier couldn’t help feeling exposed under his sharp gaze.

“And Geralt. Abby said you were here. What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into now?” 

“Got stabbed…again”

“Not by Mr. Pankratz, I presume.”

“Hmm.”

“I feel like for the record, I want that very vague hum translated into a firm no. I did not, in fact, stab him. I received him with all the holes he currently has,” Jaskier rambled.

Jaskier could tell there was history between these two. He couldn’t tell what kind, but he could only assume that Dr. Regis was familiar with at least a few of Geralt’s scars just from the way Geralt easily admitted to being hurt to the man when he hadn’t mentioned it to the nurse.

“Right, and Abby tells me you have a bite wound.” Dr. Regis said, turning his attention back to Jaskier.

“Abby did not lie,” Jaskier confirmed.

“I’ll have a look then. Your shoulder?”

Jaskier nodded.

The man nodded as well, going to the counter and removing a pair of gloves. He pulled them on as he stepped closer to Jaskier. “Right or left?”

“Right.”

“If you’ll stop gripping the gown, I’ll examine the wound.” The man sounded like he was a bit amused by Jaskier’s foolishness, which Jaskier assumed was why Geralt liked him—two of a kind.

“Right, yeah.” Jaskier awkwardly let go of the gown, and Dr. Regis carefully pulled it away from the wound to study it. 

“Mostly bruised. You were wearing a shirt?”

“Uh, yeah. Caught the edge of it.”

“I see. Did you clean it?”

“Um...my uh...Geralt did and covered it, but I might have gotten a bit worked up and tore it off then bled on my shirt more before taking that off and opening it up again.” Jaskier cringed as he said it out loud. Geralt was looking pointedly away from them as he explained it, so he was no help at all.

“It sounds like you had a rough morning.”

“It certainly feels that way as well,” Jaskier sighed. He raised his arm and rubbed his palm over his face as Dr. Regis continued to examine the wound, muttering medical jargon as he went. Jaskier tuned most of it out because it sounded like it was more for the doctor’s benefit than his.

“You said it was an adult who bit you?”

“Yes. Why would children go around biting me?”

Dr. Regis stifled a laugh. “You might be surprised that most of our human bite wounds come from children or are accidental.”

“This was accidental,” Jaskier said quickly.

“Yes, I’ve known Geralt long enough that I assume he did not _mean_ to intentionally bite you. Trauma is funny that way though,” the doctor said, giving them both a meaningful look before stepping back and going to the counter. He pulled off the gloves and went through the cabinets, removing several items.

“It—”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I’m sure that’s why Geralt brought you here,” Dr. Regis said, placing several items on the counter before pulling on a clean pair of gloves.

“I want to get some images of this. I will also be prescribing a round of antibiotics. If you see significant signs of infection such as red webbing around the wound, you will need to seek immediate medical attention. These wounds become infected easily as I am sure that Geralt has told you,” the doctor said as he began flushing the wound.

“Yeah, he did,” Jaskier said, realizing that Geralt probably knew from experience. That only made his gut twist even more. He didn’t know what the hell Geralt had been through in his life, but he was starting to clearly see the cracks in his facade that had been left behind.

“I’m going to start by taking some blood. We won’t get the results right away, and if Geralt has possibly been exposed to pathogens recently, we’ll get you started on the antibiotics right away. I’ll also prescribe you something for the pain. The bruising is deep, and we’ll have to see if the bite did any damage to the muscles and tendons in the images.”

“Okay.”

“Geralt, stay in here. I’ll take a look at you while he’s getting his blood taken,” the doctor said as he motioned for Jaskier to stand up.

Jaskier was feeling more than a little disoriented by the time he stepped out of the blood work room. Abby had taken blood while Dr. Regis had stayed behind with Geralt. 

Abby slowly guided him back to the examination room. Jaskier tried not to let on how out of sorts he felt as he waited for someone to give him the okay to enter the exam room again.

When he finally stepped inside, Geralt just hummed while lying bare chested on the table—no ill-fitting gown in sight.

“So an on-the-job stab wound?” Dr. Regis asked, carefully examining the wound as he stood over Geralt. He had a lamp shining onto the wound, and it twisted Jaskier’s stomach to see the damage. He didn’t know how Geralt was able to do anything at all after that, and his reaction to Jaskier touching him didn’t seem irrational at all when faced with the damage the person who attacked him had caused.

“Hmm.”

“Delightful. I am assuming the hospital ran the necessary tests?” Dr. Regis didn’t seem nearly as devastated by Geralt’s injury as Jaskier was feeling. 

“Mm.”

“Are you still…” the doctor paused, looking directly at Jaskier as he tried not to stumble across the room to the chair his shirt had been placed on. “Would you like to speak privately, Geralt?”

Jaskier suddenly felt uncomfortable, realizing Dr. Regis had separated them for more than just convenience. He considered offering to wait outside, but Geralt beat him to it.

“No. He can stay.” Geralt didn’t hesitate, and Jaskier was more than a little shocked by it.

“Are you certain? I can ask Mr. Pankratz—”

“He can hear it. Probably should hear it.”

“Very well. Are you still seeing your doctor?” Dr. Regis asked, cleaning away the blood on Geralt’s back. They didn’t clarify what type of doctor, but Jaskier had a pretty good idea.

“Once a month.”

“Your choice or theirs?”

“Mine.”

“Very well. I will remind you, as I have in the past that you have experienced something traumatic, and you may react to that in any number of ways,” Dr. Regis said, glancing at Jaskier who was sitting in the chair in the corner. “I strongly suggest speaking to your doctor about what happened... _all_ of it.”

Geralt sighed.

“As usual, you are so open to reason.”

“I’m open to reason, not wasting my time or anyone else’s.”

“Of course.” Dr. Regis did not sound convinced at all, and he didn’t do anything to mask it.

“Is he okay?” Jaskier asked, getting out of the chair and inching closer.

“You mean the wound?” Dr. Regis asked, glancing over at Jaskier.

Jaskier nodded.

“It is not nearly as bad as I’m sure it feels. Though I would suggest limiting your movement and avoiding any sort of lifting or twisting. It is not in a place that is easily immobilized, so you need to be careful. Something that I am almost entirely certain you don’t know the meaning of.” 

Jaskier snorted even as Geralt sighed. 

“From what I can see, I don’t need to replace any sutures. Remember, it’s not just a hole. You did damage to muscle, skin, possibly the bone. You are going to feel the smallest miscalculated movement. Don’t make it worse by being stubborn,” the doctor said, cleaning the area around the wound and covering it with a new dressing.

“Emiel,” Geralt said softly as Dr. Regis stepped away, removing his gloves. 

Dr. Regis paused what he was doing and looked at Geralt who was still lying on the table, holding himself very still. 

“Need sedatives.” Geralt’s voice was barely audible even in the quiet room, but Jaskier still heard it.

“Sedatives? Geralt, what’s wrong?” Jaskier asked, finally cutting the distance he’d been keeping while the doctor checked his wound.

“Can’t relax. Can’t sleep. I can’t block it all out,” Geralt said, addressing the doctor more than him. He sounded on edge, much the same as he had the night before.

Dr. Regis looked tired, but he nodded. “You need to call your doctor, Geralt.”

Jaskier sat down beside Geralt on the table once Dr. Regis stepped out. “How...how bad is it, Geralt? Talk to me.”

“I live alone in the middle of nowhere for a reason, Jaskier.”

“Right...just…”

“I could’ve killed you.”

“I mean, sure hypothetically. I could be killed by any partner I invite into my house. You weren’t...you didn’t…”

“I know you think that me being unaware that it was you when it happened makes it better, but it doesn’t. If anything, it’s worse. If I didn’t realize it was you...I’m trained to take down people intent on injuring or killing me.”

“But you did. I don’t want you sitting here condemning yourself for something that didn’t happen. I didn’t exactly read the warning signs that should’ve been pretty obvious. I mean you were stabbed last night, Geralt. Someone drove a knife into your back like a very real Shakespearean production. You have every right to be hurt and disoriented and fucked up…” Jaskier took a shaky breath as he remembered coming back into the room to the sound of Geralt’s labored breathing. “You were breathing so hard. I thought you’d punctured a lung or something, and they just hadn’t realized it...I thought...fuck, I was scared, Geralt. I shouldn’t have approached you. If I’d thought for a moment…”

Geralt wrapped his left arm around Jaskier’s waist and reeled him in. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. You wouldn’t have left me if you weren’t, which I am still incredibly upset about. I am wearing sweats in public, Geralt. That alone is a travesty I will not easily forgive you for.”

“I still don’t think...I don’t think I can be what you’re looking for.”

“Like your doctor said. You’ve been through something traumatic, so I’m not letting you make any permanent decisions right now,” Jaskier retorted, resting his palm against Geralt’s chest and feeling the uncomfortably rapid beating of his heart.

Geralt snorted. 

The rest of the visit was equally awkward and uncomfortable. They left with a handful of prescriptions to fill between the two of them, and Geralt drove them to the local pharmacy. Geralt waited in the car as Jaskier went in to fill the prescriptions, and when Jaskier came back out Geralt was holding his phone away from his ear as Yennefer’s yelled filtered out. 

Geralt handed him the phone as he started the car.

“Should I drive?” Jaskier whispered, keeping his hand over the phone.

“No. She won’t be done for a while. Just hold it. If she asks a question, don’t say anything. She’ll keep going.”

“How often does she do this?” Jaskier asked, frowning at the familiar voice which was hurling obscenities laced with deep concern.

“About as often as I end up in the hospital after a job,” Geralt said, managing to put the car in gear and pull out without use of his right arm which was back in the sling.

“And how often would that be?” Jaskier asked sheepishly.

“Often enough.”

“Right.”

“Hmm.” 

Quiet fell between them save for the sound of Yennefer’s voice. The ride back to Jaskier’s house wasn’t long, but he was exhausted and was hardly able to keep his eyes open by the end.

When they pulled into Jaskier’s driveway, Geralt took his phone back. “Got to go, Yen. Tell Ciri I’ll call her tonight,” he said before hanging up.

“What happens now?” Jaskier asked, staring at his dashboard, afraid to get out of his own car for fear that this was once again the end.

Geralt sighed and looked out the windshield. 

“I need to figure some things out. This week...fuck...I can’t risk hurting you…”

“Okay. I mean, I can respect that. Getting bitten has not been the most fun experience I’ve had, but does that mean…” Jaskier paused and glanced over at Geralt. He took in all of him from the tangled hair to the bruises left behind by whatever fight he’d been in. He took in his bloody shirt and his stained pants. He wanted to see him as he was before his vision was colored by his next question. Still, even with the bumps and bruises and battered self worth, Geralt was stunning.

“Is this it then, Geralt? Are you going to walk away with the notion that you’re protecting me from you then close yourself off from ever connecting with anyone out of some misguided idea that you’re a monster that will hurt everyone they touch? Is that the plan here?” Jaskier asked, hands fidgeting in his lap.

Geralt didn’t look at him.

“I think that’s bullshit, Geralt. I understand that I can’t and won’t stop you from walking away, but for fuck’s sake, don’t pretend it’s to protect me. You need to sort yourself out? Fine, just don’t use this as another excuse to hide away in the woods. Ciri doesn’t deserve that. Yennefer doesn’t deserve it, and frankly, I don’t think I do either.”

“Hmm.”

“Right, great chat. I guess I’ll see you around, Geralt. You know where to find me,” Jaskier said, unfastening his seat belt and opening the door.

Before he could get out of the car, Geralt grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “You don’t deserve that...I want...I want this. I don’t know how to have it.”

Jaskier’s resolve crumbled as he felt Geralt’s warm hand wrapped around his own, pleading in his own way from understanding. “Or, you could come inside while you wait for whichever poor sibling you intend to call this time. I have an episode of the Real Housewives of Redania to catch up on...and probably a quart of ice cream to bury my feelings under. You can silently judge me, and maybe when we’ve both had some time, we can figure out what the hell happens next.”

Geralt gave him the smallest of smiles, but he got out of the car and followed him into the house.


	11. Child Surprise

Geralt stared up at the ceiling of his living room. Music was playing softly on the stereo, but he wasn’t really listening to it. There was a half empty beer on the floor beside the couch, but he’d forgotten it long before it could do much other than add another layer of bitterness to his mouth.

It had been a week since he returned home, and he’d lived in a haze of sedation for most of it. He’d tried to avoid it, but after two days without sleep and wandering through the woods surrounding his home, he’d given in. 

He hadn’t called his therapist. He hadn’t called Ciri. He hadn’t contacted Jaskier.

Running his palm over his face, he cringed at the beard that was starting to grow in. Ordinarily, it would irritate him well before it got to this point, and he would’ve shaved it. However, all of his senses felt dulled to the point that he wasn’t even sure whether he was conscious or dreaming.

It took almost a minute for Geralt to realize the banging he was hearing wasn’t in his head. Sitting up slowly, he could see a form through the frosted glass of the front door. He blinked, realizing that it was morning rather than evening like when he’d sat down.

“Fuck.”

Geralt pushed himself off the couch and walked across the living room to the front door. No amount of drugs could prevent him from recognizing what was clearly Eskel’s figure through the glass. 

Standing on the other side of the door, Geralt squeezed his eyes closed and cursed again before grasping the door knob. It wasn’t locked. No one came up here. However, Eskel wasn’t stupid enough to walk into his house without invitation. He had a few scars from taking Geralt by surprise even when Geralt should’ve realized he was there.

Pulling the door open, it wasn’t just Eskel standing on his doorstep. Ciri was standing beside him, looking as radiant as ever.

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered as Ciri threw herself at him, uncaring of the fact that Geralt was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers he’d been wearing for days. He was suddenly very aware of it though as well as the fact that he hadn’t bathed for the better part of a week. He undoubtedly smelled terrible. He’d removed his clothes because he kept sweating through them, and no matter how soft they were they made his skin crawl. He could only imagine what he looked like since he’d been avoiding mirrors.

“I missed you,” Ciri said, hugging him tightly. She pressed her cheek to his chest despite how he must have smelled.

“What are you doing here? I called Yen. You weren’t supposed to come this weekend,” Gerlt said softly, wrapping Ciri in a tight hug despite feeling completely off balance. He’d never reject a hug from Ciri.

“I wanted to see you,” she said, like that was how custody worked.

Geralt looked over her head at Eskel who was studying him with too sharp eyes, holding her backpack in his massive hands.

“She called and asked if I’d take her to see you. Yen’s on board. Didn’t kidnap her or anything,” Eskel said, crossing his arms.

“I’m not feeling well, Ciri. I can’t really take you hiking or—”

“Is it because you got stabbed? I was so worried, but Mom wouldn’t tell me anything...”

“Fuck.”

“...She just said you were sick, but I couldn’t sleep. You didn’t call…” Her rambling was cut off by a sob, and Geralt felt his heart wrench. 

Geralt held her tighter, placing a kiss to the top of her head.

“How’d you find out?” he asked softly. He worked hard to avoid worrying her, and to keep her from knowing about the injuries he sustained. He’d hoped he had a few more years before he had to start telling her what his life really entailed.

“You were all over the papers, Geralt,” Eskel answered.

“Jimmy said that you were stabbed to death at the mayor’s house. And Kyle said his dad’s a cop, and he told Kyle that you died in the driveway,” Ciri told him, pressing her face more firmly against his chest.

“What the fuck?” Geralt asked, feeling a righteous fire burning in his chest. He’d never wanted to harm a child before, but these boys were definitely asking for some sort of retribution.

“They start early,” Eskel said, leaning against the doorway. “Don’t worry. Yennefer handled it. I swear, the principal nearly shit himself when she walked in with the school’s bullying policy marked up and highlighted. That secretary that everyone’s afraid of? That woman folded like a lawn chair when Yen told her to sit down before she called legal counsel.”

“You were there?” Geralt asked.

“Yeah. I believe her words were, I need you to stop me from getting arrested,” Eskel retorted. 

“Uncle Eskel wore a suit,” Ciri added.

Geralt snorted and glanced up at Eskel. They shared a look, but Geralt dropped it because it was not a conversation for Ciri’s ears, especially not after what she’d been through.

“It’s okay, Cub. I’m okay. Just a few stitches,” Geralt told her, pulling back enough to motion to his back. 

Ciri walked around him as he knelt down. She didn’t touch him immediately.

“It’s so small,” she said, studying the healing wound.

“Wasn’t big. Just a pocketknife.”

“It was still a knife,” she said, finally reaching forward and lightly touching the discolored skin around it.

“It was,” he agreed.

“Does it hurt?” 

“Yeah, Ciri. Not so much the wound, but the muscle,” he admitted, refusing to lie to her. He knew that lies wouldn’t make her feel any better. 

“Were you scared?” she asked, coming back around to face him. He easily pulled her into his arms, and she carefully wrapped hers around his neck.

“Didn’t really have time to get scared.” He pressed his nose to her temple and nuzzled as he held her tightly.

Geralt could feel Eskel’s eyes on him as he answered her questions. He was smiling as Geralt let her ask anything she wished.

“Is this why you’re sick?” Ciri asked, pulling back enough to meet his eye.

Geralt shook his head. “No, Ciri. I was sick a long time before this…”

“But this made it worse.”

“Yeah, this made some things come back.”

Ciri nodded like she understood. He didn’t know, maybe she really did understand. She’d always taken things in stride. She never questioned that he couldn’t take loud noises for long periods, and while she was a child and didn’t always remember that, she was always apologetic when she accidentally put him on edge. 

“I brought movies, and Uncle Eskel said he’d make lunch.” She looked so hopeful that it tore at his heart.

“I’ve got nowhere to be,” Eskel said, giving Geralt a meaningful look. He’d stay and supervise as long as Geralt needed him to.

“Okay, Cub. Why don’t you help Uncle Eskel and pick a movie while I take a shower?” Geralt suggested.

“That’s a good idea. I didn’t want to say anything, but you smell,” Ciri told him, pulling back again and smiling at him.

“Yeah.” Geralt gave her a soft smile. The honesty of children was refreshing, especially when in general he constantly dealt with liars.

“I’ll make a pillow fort.”

“Sounds like a plan, Cub.”

Geralt rose to his feet, lifting Ciri easily with just his uninjured arm, though it still caused his other shoulder to ache fiercely. He ignored it as he carried her over to the couch and dumped her onto the thick cushions. She bounced but managed to stay on the cushions.

Ciri laughed, grabbing one of the throw pillows that Yennefer had bought him and hitting him with it.

“That’s a dangerous game, you’re playing,” Geralt warned her.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she told him, continuing to laugh as Eskel approached him from behind and hit him with a different pillow. This only encouraged Ciri more, and Geralt sighed as he was pelted with the extra soft pillows Yennefer had bought specifically because they wouldn’t irritate him.

“I surrender,” he said, kicking Eskel in the shin for good measure.

“Go shower, asshole,” Eskel said, shoving him in the direction of his bedroom. 

Geralt rolled his eyes but headed down the hall. 

“Give us a second, Cub. Then we can go unload the truck,” Eskel said before following Geralt into his bedroom and closing the door behind them.

“You could’ve let me know you were bringing her.” Geralt walked over to his drawers to remove a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“You wouldn’t have seen it. I called you twice this morning…”

“That should’ve been a sign—”

“She’s been fucking terrified for days, Geralt. Just because you keep your distance when you’re a mess, doesn’t mean she doesn’t realize something’s up. You call her every night when you’re doing well. When you don’t call for a week, she’s going to notice.” Eskel ran his hand over his face, scratching at his scars like he always did when he was anxious or when one of his brothers was testing his patience. “She needed to see you. Maybe you don’t want to be a parent right now. I won’t blame you for that. Problem is that she doesn’t get a choice in being your kid. She can’t help having nightmares because some douchebags at school told her you’re dead, and she hasn’t heard from you since. Whatever fucked up state you’re in right now isn’t as scary to her as what’s in her head. I get that you want to protect her, but trying to separate your job from your family isn’t working anymore. You can’t protect her by keeping your distance. You can’t protect her at all if you aren’t there, and I don’t just mean physically.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Geralt. You pushed away your boyfriend to protect him. You’re doing the same with Ciri. You keep saying you’re going to get a handle on it, but I guarantee that if I walk out there and check your phone, you haven’t called your doctor. I know you haven’t called me. Bet you haven’t called Jaskier. Bet you haven’t called Lambert or Vesemir either. You’ve been high on the couch for a week, and that’s where you’re going to stay if you don’t do something about it. None of us can make you, not even Ciri.”

Geralt sighed, sitting heavily on his bed. 

“Think about it. I’ll distract Ciri while you pull yourself together,” Eskel said, patting Geralt on the shoulder.

“What would you have done if I was dead?” Geralt asked as Eskel grabbed the door handle.

“If any of us thought for a second that was on the table, you wouldn’t be living out here on your own. Clean up, Geralt.”

“Thanks for staying.”

“No need for that.”

Eskel stepped out of the room, and Geralt gathered his clothes then walked into the bathroom. He ran the shower hot as he shaved in front of the mirror, appreciating the moist heat that filled the room. Somehow, he managed not to nick himself despite how unsteady his hands felt.

When he stepped into the shower, he turned the heat down until it was bearable then just stood there beneath the spray. He tried to clear his head as he let the shower wash away days of sweat and medication that had oozed out of his pores. 

The rush of water blocked out the sounds beyond the bathroom, and Geralt let himself wallow in the seclusion for just a little longer. Eskel was right. It had been building for a long time, but Geralt had hoped to put it off until a time that he was ready for it. However, he knew the truth was that he probably never would be.

Washing his hair was painful, and Geralt winced every time his fingers caught on a knot as he tried to detangle it. He considered cutting it all off for a moment before rinsing it and deciding to let Ciri deal with it. She always begged to play with his hair anyway. So long as it wasn’t greasy, she’d be able to do something with it.

Shutting off the water, Geralt dried himself quickly before dressing in the sweats he’d brought in.

When he walked out of his room, he could hear Ciri and Eskel talking about Eskel’s pet goat. Stepping into the living room, he found Eskel holding up a black trash bag as Ciri threw old disposable plates away. He hadn’t realized that he’d eaten, never mind left the plates all over. Ordinarily, he was very particular about keeping everything neat.

“Ciri! Who the hell is that?” Eskel gasped, gripping his chest.

“I don’t know, Uncle Eskel. I don’t recognize him,” Ciri said right back, playing along with Eskel’s antics.

“Do you think he’s the one who left a half eaten piece of pizza under the couch?”

“If it is, he should know that was gross…”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “That’s enough. Eskel feed the gremlin. Ciri, I need help,” Geralt said, taking a seat on the island of couch cushions that Ciri had created on the floor between the couch and television.

Ciri’s eyes widened as she came over to him as he held up a comb. “You want me to do your hair?”

“Can’t reach,” he said, motioning to the sling he’d actually bothered to put on.

Ciri smiled at him and took the comb from his fingers and sat on the couch, so she was high enough to work. Eskel was giving him a silly smile as he carried the garbage bag to the kitchen. 

Geralt hit play on the movie that Ciri had chosen, but his focus remained on his daughter as she very carefully detangled his hair. She managed to be very gentle as she worked the tangles out either with her fingers or the tines of the comb, never tugging but methodically working.

Ciri chattered as she worked, telling him all of the hairstyles she wanted to give him. He didn’t discourage her, making sure to focus on her voice the way he would with Jaskier. It allowed him to relax while still remaining present. He knew Ciri’s voice. Ciri’s voice was good and soothing, never dangerous.

Eskel gave him a teasing smile as he came back into the room with snacks. He sat down next to Geralt and began eating the sandwich he’d made himself while Geralt picked at the oatmeal Eskel had brought him. He wanted to be mad at Eskel, but he knew that much more than this wouldn’t likely sit well with him even if the texture was awful.

“There,” Ciri said, patting Geralt’s shoulders. He knew without needing a mirror that she’d given him braided pigtails, but he didn’t complain. So long as it was no longer tangled.

“He looks very dashing,” Eskel said, poorly hiding his laughter.

“Eskel next, Ciri.” Geralt smirked as Ciri wasted no time sliding over to her uncle and beginning to pull his hair into a mess of small pony tails that made him look like a riled hedgehog since his hair wasn’t really long enough for them.

Geralt smirked as Eskel shot him a disgruntled look, but Eskel didn’t stop Ciri. He winced when she’d snag his hair with the little ties she used, but it served him right for being a smartass. It didn’t get past anyone that Ciri was not nearly as gentle with Eskel’s hair as she was Geralt’s, and it warmed something inside Geralt that had been numb for days.

When Ciri was finished, and they both looked like something out of a cartoon with their new hairstyles, Ciri burrowed out a small space between them. She sat with her sandwich and watched the movie.

Geralt let himself enjoy the moment, letting it wash away the pain and uncertainty that had been plaguing him. 

The day was low key. Ciri had brought a whole pile of cartoons as well as the Lord of the Rings trilogy, just in case they wanted to change it up. It was sweet how she made them all agree on each movie when the previous one would finish. Though he suspected it was more to do with Eskel loudly lambasting every one of Geralt’s choices as terrible then wrestling him gently until he agreed to the movie Eskel suggested. Sometimes Ciri would intervene with sharp elbows and flailing limbs that always found Eskel’s soft spots.

That was how they ended up watching the second Lord of the Rings movie out of sequence because Geralt liked the Ents, and Ciri’s pointy elbow had caught Eskel in the kidney before he could give Geralt hell about it. 

Ciri fell asleep sprawled across them long before the Ents showed up. 

“Seriously, you made us watch the worst one for a few trees kicking people’s asses,” Eskel grumbled quietly. He’d been tugging the ties out of his hair carefully for the last half hour, but there were still a few that he’d missed which Geralt was not going to mention.

“How is this worse than the cartoon about the snow princess?”

“Don’t talk shit on _Frozen_ , Geralt,” Eskel gave his uninjured shoulder a shove.

“It’s weird that you’re attracted to a cartoon, Eskel.”

“Fuck you. I’m not the one who likes...the _things_ you enjoy.” Eskel rephrased what was very clearly going to be vulgar. However, the little ears in the room, even asleep, clearly dissuaded him.

“What things does Dad like? Is it mayonnaise? Because that’s gross, and it makes it hard to steal his food,” Ciri mumbled half conscious as she tried to sit up. 

Eskel quickly moved to protect his groin from Ciri’s bony elbow just in time as Geralt glared at him. Eskel just grinned back unapologetically. 

“Mayonnaise _is_ gross, Ciri. You tell him,” Eskel told her, pulling her into his lap so she wouldn’t accidentally catch Geralt’s injured side as she moved around.

Geralt chuckled as Ciri gave them both a narrowed eyed look to tell them she knew they were hiding something. However, she didn’t demand to know what it was. 

“It’s okay, Uncle Eskel. Dad likes Belle. He always gets weepy when we watch _Beauty and the Beast._ ”

“Don’t think it’s Belle he gets weepy about, Cub,” Eskel retorted, giving Ciri a tight squeeze that made her squirm and laugh as she tried to escape.

“The beast is nice too,” Ciri concluded.

Both Geralt and Eskel shook their head fondly at her.

“Don’t get her all riled up right before bed,” Geralt grumbled, wincing as he pushed himself to his feet. 

“Did you say time for ice cream?” Eskel asked, getting to his feet with Ciri still in his arms.

“Ice cream!” Ciri cried, laughing at the pained face Geralt made.

“You are lucky you don’t have kids of your own,” Geralt sighed. 

“Why would I need my own kids when I can spoil Ciri?”

“Hmm.”

Eskel let Ciri down, and Geralt watched them walk into the kitchen, talking about what to watch next. It wasn’t even that late, but Ciri was clearly wiped out from days of worry. 

When Eskel and Ciri returned with three pints of ice cream, Geralt realized how Yennefer felt when he spoiled Ciri. “Vanilla for Geralt and fudgy peanut butter cup disaster for the cub,” Eskel said, handing out pints and spoons.

“It’s moose tracks, Uncle Eskel.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” Eskel said, patting Ciri on the head before digging into his own tub of black raspberry chip. 

Geralt forced himself to eat the ice cream, knowing it would help perk him up. It was a tactic Eskel had used when they were younger, and Geralt would experience a drop. It was sweet enough to entice him to eat it, but it was plain enough not to bother him. While it didn’t fix everything, it usually did make him feel a bit better. Eskel was clearly on a mission if he was pulling out all of his old tricks.

Ciri was a third of the way through the pint when Geralt decided she’d had enough. He plucked it from her fingers then carried both of their containers back to the kitchen. When he returned, Ciri had a smear of what looked a lot like black raspberry on her cheek, and he gave them both an unimpressed look.

“Let’s go. Bed time,” Geralt told her.

Ciri huffed, but she didn’t argue with him. “Will you tell me a story?”

“Mm.”

Eskel cleaned up the living room while Geralt made sure that Ciri’s bed had sheets and blankets. He went into his own room and picked up the horse stuffed animal he’d gotten her when she was a toddler. He carried it into her room and placed it on her pillow. She left it with him when she went home to keep him company, and he always kept it on his own bed in her absence.

“Roach wants to stay in your bed,” Ciri said when she stepped into the room in her pajamas.

Geralt sighed.

“You can tell me if you want to stay in my room, Ciri. Roach doesn’t have to talk for you,” he said, picking the well loved stuffed animal up.

“Can I?”

“Only if you promise not to kick me in your sleep,” he said, handing Roach to her. It wasn’t lost on him that every one of her horse toys was named Roach because he’d just called them all Roach, and she rolled with it. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve Ciri who just rolled with all of his idiosyncrasies. 

“I make no promises,” Ciri told him, tipping her chin up.

Geralt smiled, running his fingers through her soft hair before motioning for her to head to the room across the hall.

“What story do you want to hear?” Geralt asked, walking over to the bookshelf where he had several books of short stories and poems that he read to her before bed.

“How did you meet, Mr. Jaskier?” Ciri asked, hopping into the massive bed and settling right in the middle. Roach sat beside her, claiming Geralt’s pillow.

“Not really worth a bedtime story,” Geralt told her, carrying over one of his books.

“I bet it is.”

Geralt sighed. He assumed Jaskier could make it story worthy, but he didn’t really think he possessed those tools. He also wasn’t sure where things stood with Jaskier, so what was there even to say?

“Jaskier said it was love at first sight,” Ciri said, smiling up at him encouragingly.

Geralt choked. “He said what?”

“He said...he was standing in mom’s bar talking to Mr. Zigrin when you walked in, and his breath caught and his heart sighed like he had found its other half.”

“He said that…”

“Yup, and then he said he was really nervous to talk to you because he knew he was already in love, but he said hi anyway.”

“Sounds like you already know the story. What did I do when he said hi?” Geralt asked, feeling his chest tighten. Jaskier had probably said it only to amuse Ciri, but just hearing her say it second hand was making his heart race.

“He said you told him that you wanted to drink in peace.”

“He actually told you that?”

“He said that you’re all growl and no bite, and you left him your number before you left, so you liked him too even if you’re bad at making friends.” She dutifully told him.

“He told you all of that?”

“Yup. He also said you swept him off his feet on your first date after you let him eat your meal because yours was better than his. He said that was when he knew you loved him.”

“I think Jaskier is full of shit.”

Ciri laughed at that, giving him a small shove. “ _Well_? When did you fall in love with him then?” she asked. 

“Ciri, I’ve known him less than a month,” Geralt said, shaking his head.

“Then it shouldn’t be too hard to remember.”

Geralt snorted. She was so much like Yennefer sometimes, never letting him get away with anything.

Sighing, Geralt looked down at the book in his hands and thumbed at the corner of it. “When I found out he was the one who told you about putting your head to the heater to fake being sick. He didn’t hesitate to stand up for you. Unapologetically went to bat for you even though I wasn’t angry with you.”

“Why would that be it?” Ciri asked, sounding genuinely baffled by his statement. 

Geralt sighed, running his palm over his face. “I don’t talk about when I was a kid much. I didn’t...look Ciri, your mom and I didn’t have great childhoods. And despite not being together in a traditional sense, we have always made it a priority that you know you have people who love you no matter what and who will be there for you no matter what. So, when people care about you and have your best interests at heart, it’s important to me.”

“That’s not nearly as romantic as Jaskier’s.”

“Hate to break it to you, Cub, but I’m not very romantic.”

“You should tell him it was that moment on the rock scramble when you held him. He’d love that,” she said, patting his thigh encouragingly.

“You’re probably right.” Geralt took a slow breath to steady himself and he studied the worn cover of the book. “You want to hear a bedtime story or not?”

“Can you read the poetry book?” she asked, shuffling down beneath the covers.

“Hmm.” Geralt rose from the bed and walked to his bookshelf. He placed his book back on the shelf before removing the book of Emily Dickinson poems that Lambert had bought him because an ex of his was obsessed with her, and he’d thought of Geralt when she read him “Because I could not stop for death…”

Geralt easily found the page of the poem that he’d read at least a few hundred times in the dozen years he’d had the book. He never read it to Ciri. He stuck to the poems about bees and flowers and birds. He doubted his reading was particularly good, but Ciri usually enjoyed it.

Taking a seat on the bed, he opened to one of her favorites and began to read. Ciri pulled Roach to her chest as she settled in and closed her eyes, listening to his voice as she slowly drifted off. After several poems, once he was fairly certain she was asleep, he opened to “Because I could not stop for death” and slowly began to read it aloud. 

Wiping his nose when he’d finished, he closed the book. However, as he shifted to stand, Ciri’s hand reached out and wrapped around his wrist.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, Ciri?”

“Do you ever get lonely out here?” she asked softly.

“I’ve got Roach,” Geralt told her, feeling too raw already.

“But...do you miss me...and Jaskier...and Uncle Eskel and Uncle Lambert?”

Geralt felt all of the air in his lungs abandon him as he looked down at Ciri who was looking up at him while gutting him with her own insecurities.

“I do…a lot.”

“I miss you too.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think Roach would mind living at Mr. Jaskier’s house.”

Geralt sighed. “She probably would Ciri, but I don’t think Roach gets to make that decision.”

“I know.”

“Get some sleep. It’s too late to be solving the world’s troubles.”

“Are you going to yell at Uncle Eskel?”

“I promise I’ll do it quietly.”

Ciri laughed at that. “Don’t be mad at him for bringing me.”

“I’m not mad at him, Ciri.”

“Okay. But don’t be _not mad_ the way Mom gets when Uncle Lambert visits.”

This time Geralt laughed. “I promise, Cub. Now get some rest, and I’ll be in soon.”

“Goodnight, Dad.”

“Night, Ciri.”

This time, Ciri let him rise without trouble, and Geralt placed the book back on the shelf before walking out of the room and closing the door most of the way. He walked into the kitchen to find a cup of water waiting for him beside his medication. He rolled his eyes but took it before heading out onto the porch where Eskel was sitting with a beer.

“Ciri was hitting you with the hard questions. Thought she was going to ask if there is a Heaven and where babies come from next,” Eskel said before taking a pull from his beer.

“She should’ve told me,” Geralt mumbled, running his fingers through Ciri’s hair.

Eskel gave him a dubious look. “What, so you could have said no?”

“About the bullying.”

“Geralt…”

“I had a right to know.”

“I’m not her parent, Geralt. Take it up with Yennefer. But as much as I love you, I don’t blame her for keeping it from you. You are not holding it together, and adding more stress to that was only going to make it worse.”

“Giving me parenting advice now? Raising a goat give you that authority?” Geralt’s voice rumbled.

“No, I’m not giving you parenting advice. I’m giving you advice on you. I’m not stupid, Geralt. I know you’ve been drugged up since you got here. I know you haven’t called your doctor. I know you’re going to ease out of this in a week or two, then you’re going to drink heavily until it stops haunting you, and in about a month you’ll rejoin the world in carefully managed doses. I _know_ you.”

“Fuck off, Eskel.”

“I think you should come back with me.”

“I’m fine.”

“Want to rephrase that, so I don’t call bullshit?” Eskel eyed him skeptically, and Geralt knew he really didn’t have a leg to stand on.

“I’m—I’m not a danger to myself or others.”

“Geralt.”

“Don’t.”

Eskel sighed. “Look, I want to apologize,” he said, staring down at his bottle of beer and he swung it in small circles between his knees.

“For what?” Geralt glanced over at his brother, knowing he would never apologize for bringing Ciri to visit. Geralt would never ask him to.

“I forced you to go see Jaskier that night. I didn’t give you the option to go home and be away from anyone. It wasn’t fair, and Jaskier got hurt because of it. You got hurt because of it.”

Geralt just stared down at his hands, fiddling with the itchy strap of the sling. “It’s not your fault. You were right. A big part of me wanted to be there. He’s good at steadying me. Yen teases him about being a gentle Dom, but I’ve never had someone so easily talk me off a ledge I didn’t even realize I was sitting on. But I wasn’t all there, and he didn’t know what he was dealing with…”

“You’ve always been good at managing yourself. It’s why you’ve gotten away with closing yourself off for so long. It’s why Yennefer gives you so much slack. You know when you can’t be around people safely, and you retreat. It was a strategy that worked when you got home and had no idea how confront what happened to you, but it wasn’t meant to be long term. You were meant to learn how to address the problems. You were meant to learn the skills to deal with it. Instead, you cut everyone off and lived up here off the fucking map. It sucks, and dealing with it is uncomfortable. You think I wanted to walk out my front door after I got this mug?” Eskel gestured to the scars covering almost half of his face. “You used to drive me to therapy. How many weeks did it take just to get me out of the car after the seven months it took to just make the appointment?”

“Five,” Geralt answered even though he knew it was rhetorical. He’d sat in the driver’s seat silently while Eskel had stared at the front of the office, unable to force himself out of the vehicle. He’d been so ashamed of being unable to go inside, but not nearly as ashamed as he was of his face. Five weeks of sitting for the duration of the appointment in his truck, and then another six of spending half the session in the car before he worked up the nerve to go inside for the second half. 

“You think I don’t know how much it sucks? You and Lambert didn’t let me pull away, and it’s about time he and I do the same for you. I can’t make you call your therapist, but I think you should come stay with me. The longer you stay out here, the less likely you are to come back.”

Geralt didn’t say anything. He just looked down at his hands. He knew Eskel had a point. It wasn’t that Geralt didn’t want the same things that Eskel was suggesting. He just didn’t have much hope for success. His methods worked. Maybe they weren’t healthy, and they impacted his relationships, but until Jaskier, he hadn’t hurt anyone. He’d always protected others by keeping himself away. 

“Think you should take a step back at the company as well. Lambert and I can handle jobs. You can handle the business side. You can’t tell me last week didn’t fuck you up. Just think about it.” Eskel pushed himself off the step and rose to his feet. He reached into his pocket and removed Geralt’s phone, handing it over. “I charged it for you. I have something to do tomorrow, but I already spoke to Lambert. If you’re up for keeping Ciri the whole weekend, he’ll drive up first thing in the morning and stay with you.”

“You don’t have—”

“Just accept it, Geralt. She deserves to see you even if it has to be supervised. Your boyfriend probably does too.”

Geralt nodded. 

“I’ll let Lambert know. You should try to get some sleep.”

“I’ll head in soon,” Geralt said, rubbing at his face.

“Night, Geralt.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Geralt stared down at his phone screen as he sat on the steps. After a while he opened his messenger app and found Jaskier. 

—You told Ciri you love me.—

He deleted the message before retyping it and sending it before he could stop himself.

— _Are you mad because I told her before you, that I told her at all, or that I love you?—_

Jaskier’s response was rapid as always, and Geralt could just picture Jaskier putting his hands on his hips as he asked the question.

Geralt read the message several times before responding.

—Why do you think I’m mad?—

— _I haven’t heard from you in a week, and it’s the middle of the night. I just assume only pure rage could make you contact me now_.—

“Fuck.”

Geralt searched for a suitable reply, but he really didn’t know what to say. He wished Eskel was still out here to help. Eskel was much better at this.

—Ciri thinks I should tell you I fell in love with you on the hike because she thought my answer wasn’t romantic enough.—

— _Ciri is wise beyond her years, but you should know that anything you tell me will be romantic, and you do not need to make it flashy. I happen to have a healthy enough imagination to make any moment romantic...unless you say it’s when you tasted my blood. That might be unsalvageable_.—

—Don’t actually remember biting you.—

— _Then I can rest easy, knowing I’m the only one who remembers the embarrassing squeal I made when you bit me._ —

Geralt smiled at Jaskier’s comment. He didn’t respond that he remembered that sound. It was what had made him realize he was attacking Jaskier and not a ghost from his past. He’d let Jaskier have this. When Geralt didn’t respond immediately, Jaskier texted again.

— _I wasn’t making it up just to please her_.—

—Didn’t think you were. I miss your voice.—

_—Is that what made you realize?—_

—No—

— _You’ll tell me one day._ —

—I hope so.—

— _You know you can always call me._ —

—Maybe when Ciri and Eskel aren’t here.—

— _I would like that_.—

Geralt sighed, feeling the tightness in his chest as he considered pressing the call button. He almost touched in, but he turned off his screen instead. Slowly getting to his feet, Geralt headed back into the house. He shut the light before walking to his room and carefully sliding into bed.

He settled Roach beside Ciri and fixed the sheet she’d tangled herself in before rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling while Ciri slept peacefully.


	12. Law of Surprise

It was a warm morning as Jaskier stepped out of his car and walked around to the entrance of Yen’s bar. He’d opted for a yellow button up with short sleeves and a green waistcoat with flowers embroidered on it. He was desperately in need of a haircut, but he hadn’t had the time with the semester coming to a close. 

He hadn’t been to a munch in over a month for the same reason. Students turning in papers that he couldn’t just pass without leaving detailed notes on how to improve the quality. It took a long time, and even if he knew most of the students wouldn’t read it, he had to do it for his own sanity. It also helped keep him distracted from his very uncertain lovelife. 

Jaskier hadn’t seen Geralt in over two months. Geralt texted infrequently, and the texts were often in response to something Ciri told him that Jaskier had said. Half the time they were complete fabrications on her part, but Jaskier played along because it was good to hear from Geralt even if it usually only served to reopen the lingering wound that was his heart.

The most recent text he’d received was _you can’t rename Roach_ , which was clearly a lie Ciri had told him to get a rise out of him. Jaskier had pointed out that he could do what he wanted if no one was there to stop him, and Geralt had simply replied that a man only had honor if he kept his convictions when no one was watching. That had been two weeks ago, and Jaskier wasn’t sure whether Geralt was truly mad about it or if he just hadn’t seen Ciri to get fed another lie.

Jaskier almost pitied Geralt because Ciri was going to be a force to be reckoned with when she hit her teens. She was a startlingly empathetic child, but she’d learn that she had Geralt wrapped around her little finger one day, and Geralt wouldn’t know what hit him. 

Wiping at the sweat on the back of his neck, Jaskier opened the door of the pub. Yennefer was behind the bar itself doing inventory as she did every Saturday morning while Jaskier set up. It was familiar, and it eased some of his nerves about coming back to their munch after a month away.

“You’re late,” Yennefer said without looking up from the inventory list she was looking at. 

“You aren’t paying me enough to hurry my morning routine. This face needs proper care,” he said, walking over to the cardboard box of supplies that had been placed on one of the high tops. He pulled out the little menus that were available during the munch. 

Yennefer snorted. “You should’ve been a little later then because those crow’s feet are a bit dramatic.”

Jaskier’s mouth fell open, and he placed his hands on his hips. “Do not mention the feet!”

“Aw, Jaskier, are you feeling your morality? Are you afraid pretty little subs won’t fall for your charms anymore if a few wrinkles show up on your obnoxiously youthful face?”

Jaskier really wasn’t sure if he was being complimented or insulted, but that was just the way Yennefer was. 

“My charms are more than physical,” he said, nodding smugly.

Yennefer gave him a condescending nod, and he rolled his eyes. 

Placing the menus on each of the tables, Jaskier ignored her as she did her job. It was comfortingly familiar. They’d been doing this for years, and nothing had changed. While on one hand that was disappointing, it was nice to know that his strange friendship with Yennefer was still there.

“Had a few new attendees in the last month,” Yennefer said once Jaskier had hung the little banner he’d created years ago over the bar.

“That’s good. It’s always nice to see new faces,” he said, stepping down from the chair he’d been balancing on. He was genuinely happy about that. He loved the core group that they had, but it was always great to have people join them. Some were long time members of the community who were just looking for different people to talk to, while others were new and looking to connect to others. Both brought great energy to the mix.

“You doing okay?” Yennefer asked, placing a strawberry daiquiri on the bar beside him. 

“Are you trying to get me drunk at eleven in the morning so I spill my heart?” He eyed the drink skeptically, but it looked delicious. Yennefer was magic when it came to tasty drinks.

“I won’t confirm or deny it, but you should drink up. I might be insulted if you reject a drink I made specially for you.” Yennefer gave him the most unassuming smile, and it was no wonder where Ciri got her mischievous streak.

“Only because I like daiquiris…”

“Mm.” Yennefer watched him take the first sip and smiled as he made a pleased sound.

“I should do things that require interrogation more often if this is your technique. Is this top shelf? How much alcohol is in this?” Jaskier took another sip, feeling a pleasant tingle through his whole body.

“A woman keeps her secrets.”

Jaskier took another sip and smacked his lips at the rich flavor. He was going to be a mess by the time people arrived if he kept drinking this.

“Where was this when the Countess broke my heart?” he asked as he took a seat at the bar.

Yennefer laughed. “You did that to yourself. If you fell for someone so completely incompatible with you, then a daiquiri isn’t going to fix it.”

“But having my heart broken by Geralt deserves a daiquiri…” 

“Jaskier…”

“No, don’t try to soften the blow. It’s good to hear that it’s over. I mean, on some level I already knew, but it’s good to have it made clear...via a fruity alcoholic pity drink.”

“No, Jaskier, that wasn’t…”

“It’s okay, Yennefer. It stings, but I get it. Geralt getting the help he needs is what’s important. Him being able to be there for Ciri and his family is more important than a brief, if _intense_ , fling with me...See? I can be an adult sometimes. I guess I can own the crow’s feet…”

“Jaskier, come here you idiot,” Yennefer said, pulling him into a tight hug as she came around the bar. “Stop breaking your own heart, you idiot.”

“Yes, thank you for that pep talk, Yennefer. How did you learn to be such a tender inspiration?” he teased her, giving her a genuine smile.

Yennefer looked as though she was going to say something else, but just then Yarpen arrived with a few of his boisterous friends.

“Jaskier! Good to see you,” Yarpen proclaimed as he walked over to them and clapped Jaskier on the shoulder.

“You too, Yarpen. I see the gang’s all here today.”

“Everyone wanted to unwind with some good company,” Yarpen agreed, accepting a pitcher of beer from Yennefer as she moved behind the bar again.

Jaskier quickly fell into the task of greeting everyone as they arrived. It was cathartic to be met with genuine pleasure when people realized he’d joined them for the day. At least a dozen people commented that they’d missed him, and it left him feeling warm and happy.

Maybe his love life was a thing of chaos, but he had this. He had plenty of people who cared, and they enjoyed his company. 

Jaskier was standing at the bar sipping a much needed water when Tea walked up beside him and ordered a pitcher.

“You look tired, Jaskier,” she said, not really looking at him but around the bar at the various attendees.

“Work’s been a lot, but the semester is finally over,” He replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Mm. You should talk to Borch. He is very good at relieving stress,” she said, accepting the pitcher that Yennefer pushed in her direction.

“Oh, that is very nice of you to suggest. I just...I will be fine. I actually have a massage scheduled for this week. I’ll probably fall asleep and drool all over the table, but it’ll do a lot to relieve some stress,” Jaskier said, fiddling with his fingers.

“That is good. Don’t be afraid to reach out. Borch has many connections.”

“Thank you, Tea. I appreciate it,” Jaskier told her before she headed over to her table.

“Are they all trying to fix you up?” Yennefer asked, leaning over the bar. “Incredible. They’re upset their puppy is broken.”

Jaskier gave her the finger as he accepted another Daiquiri. “I can’t help it if they love me. I’m quite lovable.”

Yennefer snorted indelicately. He didn’t take it personally because Yennefer had shown she loved him more than any of them even if she was always prickly about it.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Yennefer asked, looking over at the door as the Countess walked in. She looked stunned as she always did, wearing a perfectly fitted sundress and creamy yellow pumps. 

Jaskier felt his throat get tight as he saw her look around the bar with a look that said very clearly what she felt for the place. When her eyes landed on Jaskier, her expression softened only slightly.

“Does she think she’s fooling anyone?” Yennefer asked, but Jaskier felt his heart twinge as he remembered the good times they’d had together before she kicked him out. Then there was the unfortunate on and off period that had lasted months before she’d finally kicked him out for good, saying he just wasn’t what she wanted from a Dom. That would’ve been fine if she hadn’t made him feel inferior for it. “Jaskier?”

“Julian, I wasn’t expecting to see you here. What a pleasant surprise,” the Countess said, coming over to him.

“Bullshit,” Yennefer muttered, but the Countess ignored her.

“I’ve missed you, Julian,” the Countess said, touching his hand where it rested on the bar. 

Something inside of Jaskier twisted but not in the pleasant way it did when the other guests mentioned that they’d missed him.

“It’s been a while, Anya,” Jaskier said, using the name he hadn’t said long before they’d stopped seeing each other. Like himself, she’d always preferred her scene name, but he had come to realize it was more a power move than his own love for his moniker. 

“Too long. How are you?” she asked, ignoring Yennefer who continued to stand there staring directly at her with a look of disgust.

“I’m very good, Darling. I was just telling Tea that I am getting a massage this week to relieve some of the stress of the semester, and I have a few gigs coming up with the free time I have between semesters,” Jaskier told her, gently pulling his hand back to take a sip of his drink.

“You’re always so flighty, Julian. You wouldn’t remember to eat half the time if someone wasn’t feeding you. Isn’t that right?”

Jaskier opened his mouth and shut it again. He frowned as he looked down at the plate of mini quiches that Yennefer had put in front of him earlier. He’d eaten two before getting distracted by different guests.

“I’ve been thinking lately, Julian,” Anya continued when Jaskier didn’t have a response.

“Best to leave that to the professionals,” Yennefer said, ignoring another attendee in favor of staying right in the middle of their conversation.

“Don’t you have a customer?” Anya asked, smiling tightly at Yennefer.

“I also have a love sick fool over here in danger of getting you talons stuck in him again.”

Anya frowned at that, but Jaskier couldn’t fight his own chuckle. He looked up at Yennefer, hoping to convey that he didn’t need her to protect his honor, but she was too busy glaring at the Countess. It was strange but heartwarming. His relationships rarely lasted long enough for anyone to need to get protective of him, especially Yennefer who teased him about his taste in subs constantly.

“You were saying something about thinking...” Jaskier trailed off as he saw a flash of white in front of the bar window, and not a moment later the door was opening, and Geralt stepped inside. “Crap.”

Geralt glanced around quickly before heading for the seat in the corner, but then he froze and did a double take as though he hadn’t been expecting Jaskier to be sitting at the bar. It was odd since Jaskier helped run the munch. Unless…

“So, it _is_ true. The White Wolf has joined your little club. How lovely,” Anya said, completely forgetting the conversation she’d been having with Jaskier. “I’ve been trying to meet him for years, but he is almost impossible to track down.” She stepped away from the bar as she patted her dress down.

Jaskier’s mouth fell open at the same time the Yennefer’s did. 

“I’m going to stab her,” Yennefer said as Anya made her way to Geralt who had been moving in their direction.

“Yennefer,” Jaskier said, gripping her wrist. He tried to swallow around the lump in his throat.

He felt something vile and acidic in his gut as he watched the way that the Countess approached Geralt. 

“If that bitch wants him to brutalize her, I’d be happy to do it for her,” Yennefer said, taking Jaskier’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “She doesn’t deserve someone with as much love to give as you.”

It was probably the nicest thing Jaskier had ever heard her say, but he couldn’t appreciate it because her previous comment stole all of his attention.

Jaskier was out of his seat and marching after her before he could even come up with a plan. All he knew was that she would not be propositioning Geralt on his watch, certainly not for anything that would only fuel Geralt’s fears of being dangerous, and not when Geralt was taking a huge leap and putting himself out there at a munch.

“...an honor to meet someone as highly recommended as you,” Anya was saying as she reached forward to touch Geralt’s forearm.

“Hmm.” Geralt hummed, easily avoiding her touch by shifting his position just slightly, making it seem completely coincidental that her fingers missed him. He looked annoyed rather than uncomfortable.

“Geralt!” Jaskier called as Anya opened her mouth again to say something. She frowned at him as Geralt looked up.

Jaskier could see Geralt’s features soften as he looked him up and down, and it warmed Jaskier’s whole body. Without giving it any thought, Jaskier threw himself at Geralt. He was caught easily and without a hint of hesitation from Geralt who pulled him flush against his chest.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Jaskier said, realizing he’d used Anya’s words only after he’d said them.

“Wasn’t sure you’d be here since you weren’t last time,” Geralt said, pressing his nose to the crook of Jaskier’s neck.

“You could’ve called. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Jaskier asked, the Countess forgotten in his surprise that Geralt had come to the last munch as well.

“Wanted to surprise you...but didn’t want to bother you if you were busy.” Geralt’s voice was the quiet rumble that he remembered, and he realized just how much he’d missed it.

“You, my dear, are never a bother,” Jaskier said, tugging Geralt in the direction of his secluded table. 

Geralt followed him and took a seat across from Jaskier. 

“That woman a friend of yours?” Geralt asked.

“An old flame. The Countess. I was nursing the heart she broke when I met you, and let me tell you, you were quite the remedy,” Jaskier told him, tapping his fingers on the tabletop.

“Hmm.”

As he got settled, Jaskier saw the Countess return to the bar and begin talking to Yennefer. Neither of them looked pleased, but Jaskier wasn’t going to dwell on it. He had more important things to focus on, like the way Geralt was giving him that soft affectionate look he only wore when he thought Jaskier wasn’t looking.

Jaskier just studied him for a long moment. He had dark circles beneath his eyes, but he had color in his cheeks. His hair was shorter, and pulled back in a low ponytail. He was wearing the same leather jacket he’d worn the first time they met, and Jaskier had to wonder if he was boiling beneath it.

“You look good. You got a haircut,” Jaskier said, giving him a smile as the world seemed to fall away from them.

Geralt chuckled and tugged at the ponytail. “How bad is it?”

“It looks good. Why would it look bad?” Jaskier tried to lean to the side to get a better look at it, but it looked like a ponytail just a little stubbier than Geralt's usual.

“Ciri’s been insisting on doing my hair every time she sees me because I let her get the knots out after a bad week…”

“You let your ten year old daughter cut your hair?” Jaskier asked, blinking at Geralt in surprise. That was certainly one way of getting a haircut, probably not the _best_ way, but a way.

“It’s just hair. Could always shave it if she did a terrible job,” Geralt said, shrugging.

Jaskier gave him a bright smile, feeling his whole body warm with the reminder of how much he adored Ciri. He couldn’t remember his own parents trusting him to cut paper, never mind their hair. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I am beyond delighted to see you. But what are you doing here, Geralt?” Jaskier asked, biting his lip.

Geralt sighed and ran his palms over his face. “I’m sorry I haven’t contacted you often.”

“No, often would definitely not be the term I would use for your correspondences. I suppose I expected it, but perhaps it stung just a bit. Though, I’m no less glad to see you,” Jaskier said, doing the talking because he knew Geralt preferred it that way. 

Geralt gave him a soft look, and Jaskier returned it, tilting his head to mimic Geralt.

“I called my therapist. I’ve been seeing her twice a week for almost two months,” Geralt said, looking down at the tabletop.

“How is it going?” 

“Still in the phase where it makes everything worse, but Eskel says I’ve got to stick it out for things to get better otherwise I just keep starting over and never make progress,” Geralt said, looking up at him through tired eyes.

“I’m glad you’re getting help, Geralt.” Jaskier tapped on the edge of the table, meeting Geralt’s gaze head on. He wasn’t backing away from this. Geralt had sought him out, and Jaskier wasn’t going to waste this moment.

“She said...I told her that you run this with Yennefer…”

“You told her about me? About the munch?” Jaskier asked, surprised to hear that. He rubbed his fingers as he fidgeted slightly in his seat.

“She doesn’t just ask about the terrible things. We’ve talked a lot about that side of me as well…”

Jaskier nodded. He found it interesting that Geralt was willing to talk to someone about it, but he scolded himself for that thought. Geralt wasn’t shy about who he was. His brothers were fully aware of his preferences. He just didn’t really seek people out to share it with.

“We’ve spoken at length about my concerns about relationships,” Geralt continued when Jaskier didn’t interrupt. “She suggested coming to the munches.”

“Your therapist suggested you come?” Jaskier repeated, trying to wrap his head around what Geralt was trying to say.

“If...if you want, we could get to know each other and see each other here while I work on the things I fear exposing you to…”

“So, you want to use the munch for what it’s actually for?” Jaskier said, giving Geralt a lopsided smile. 

“Shut up.”

Jaskier just smiled wider. “Geralt…” he paused, actually at a loss for words. How did he put how much love he was feeling into words that wouldn’t spook or frustrate Geralt? “Geralt...nothing would make me happier than getting to know you...all of you, even the sharp and jagged bits you’re afraid to share with me. However, I would love to get to see you here or for coffee or anywhere else you’d be comfortable meeting me.”

Geralt looked relieved, and it only melted Jaskier’s heart more.

“She also suggested video calls...for more private conversations.”

Jaskier grinned. “I think I already like your therapist.”

Geralt snorted. “Lambert says she just tells me things I should already know but am too out of touch to think of myself. Evidently, he’s been having video sex for years.”

Jaskier couldn’t help laughing at that, and he even saw a hint of a smile on Geralt’s face as well. “Lambert is certainly a character,” he said, continuing to chuckle. 

Geralt nodded, but he didn’t say anything else, which Jaskier took as him filling his quota of emotional vulnerability for the time being. Jaskier cut him some slack, realizing he’d been making himself vulnerable at least twice a week whenever he saw his therapist. There was no need to push him now when he was already trying his hardest.

“Alright, so we should get to know each other...probably should’ve done that before... _everything_ ,” Jaskier said, continuing to smile.

“Hmm.”

“How about I get us a drink, and we play a game of twenty questions?”

“Okay.”

“Beer?”

“Water.”

“One water for the tall drink of water, and one more daiquiri for me,” Jaskier said, smiling as he rose from his seat. He was a little tipsy as he made his way over to Yennefer who was giving him a smug little look. “You tried to tell me…”

“What can I say? You were once again convinced to break your own heart.”

“Anya leave?” Jaskier asked, looking around. 

“Someone might have made it explicitly clear that the White Wolf was very much taken, and that people who manipulate my business partners are not welcome in this establishment,” Yennefer said, pushing his drink across the bar to him.

Jaskier smiled. “You don’t need to defend my honor, Yennefer.”

“Just like you don’t need to defend Geralt’s?”

“Touche.” Jaskier held up his drink in salute.

Yennefer smiled at him as he made his way back to Geralt’s table where Borch had joined him. Instead of making the older man move, Jaskier slid in beside Geralt and beamed when Geralt threw his arm over Jaskier’s shoulder.

“Jaskier, Geralt and I were just reminiscing about the good old days,” Borch said, giving Jaskier a pleasant smile. Borch had always been one of his favorite regulars. The old man had seen it all, and he always had a great story to tell. It also didn’t hurt that jaskier had a huge crush on both Tea and Vea.

“You two know each other?” Jaskier asked, turning to look at Geralt in surprise.

Geralt snorted, and if Jaskier wasn’t sure the man didn’t have the ability, he’d say Geralt was blushing. 

“Known each other for years,” Borch said, sipping from his mug. “I’ll leave you two to yourselves. Always good to see you, Geralt.”

“You too, Borch,” Geralt said, taking the glass of water that Jaskier had brought him, and taking a sip.

“Did you two…” Jaskier asked in a whisper, watching Borch walk back to his own table.

“No.”

“Oh, guess I was just imagining—”

“The four of us did.”

Jaskier choked. Daiquiri went up his nose, and he started coughing uncontrollably as Geralt patted his back. “Are you trying to kill me, Geralt?” he rasped, wiping his mouth and nose on the back of his hand. 

“You asked.”

“Clearly, I was not expecting you to tell me that you were a part of that glorious trifecta. You know how many people have tried to get in on that?”

“Mm.”

“Was…” 

Jaskier stopped himself, feeling Geralt get a little tense beside him. However, before Jaskier could change course, Geralt spoke.

“It was very good, but I prefer one partner. Less overwhelming,” Geralt said, tugging Jaskier just a little closer.

Jaskier beamed at him, understanding the things that Geralt was leaving unsaid. 

“So, twenty questions?” Jaskier asked, shifting conversation.

“You’ve already asked several.”

“Fine, you can start then.”

Geralt frowned, clearly having not thought that statement through. “Did you rename Roach?”

“Are you really mad about that?” Jaskier asked, turning to him with a smile.

“Not your turn.” Geralt’s face was very serious, and Jaskier just gave him an adoring smile.

“I did not, and at the risk of catching Ciri’s wrath, I will tell you that your daughter has been feeding you complete lies about me.”

Geralt frowned. “She’s been lying to me?” He sounded so wounded by the thought, that Jaskier immediately began to back pedal.

“Nothing serious. Just...sometimes you text me things like about not being allowed to rename Roach, and...well, I’ve never said that about Roach. I wouldn’t dare rename her. But I’m sure it’s just her—”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Geralt asked.

“Oh...um…” Jaskier blushed as he studied his drink very closely. He really shouldn’t have let Yennefer get him drunk this early. He wouldn’t have stuck his foot in his mouth like this if he hadn’t had those first two drinks. Sighing, he looked up at Geralt. “The only time you’d text was when Ciri had told you something preposterous about me. Sure, sometimes it was bullshit, but...if it meant I got to hear from you, then I’d take what I could get. I didn’t tell her to do it…”

“You could’ve texted me...or called. You’re very forward. I assumed if you wanted to talk, you would text me after I texted you the first time.” Geralt gave him a little shake, forcing Jaskier to look up at him. His eyes were solemn and apologetic even if his words weren’t.

Jaskier sighed. “Right. I guess...I don’t know why that didn’t occur to me. Guess I just didn’t want to push you…”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, none of that. This is a fun game. None of this maudlin what if nonsense. I believe it is my turn. Geralt, what is your favorite flavor of ice cream?”

Geralt smiled, shaking his head. “Vanilla.”

Jaskier gasped, grasping his heart as he blinked at Geralt dramatically. “Vanilla? Plain vanilla? Not even vanilla bean or vanilla with sprinkles and fudge and a cherry?”

“Mm.” 

“I suppose I will have to keep that in mind if I ever want to make myself into a human sundae for you.”

Geralt snorted. “It’s all too sweet, but vanilla is pleasant. I like it after a scene if I feel like I’m dropping.” 

“Okay. That’s good to know. See, this is already a success.” Jaskier patted his thigh in celebration, but Geralt caught his hand and carefully laced their fingers. That was certainly one way to stop his constant movement.

“Mm.” Geralt gave him a small smile despite his less than enthusiastic response.

“Your turn.”

“Do you have a PhD?” Geralt asked, taking another sip of his water.

“I do. My dissertation was on the portrayal of heroism in medieval literature, specifically the disparity in the portrayals of heroism under the reign of Calanthe between the stories and histories produced in Cintra and those produced elsewhere.”

“That sounds complex.”

“Well, it’s not astrophysics, but there is a level of nuance to it. I ruined my eyes working on it, but I guess it’s worth it. I’m proud of it. Cintra was such a power under her reign, that outside voices rarely get much attention. So, to analyze their heroes you see what they value...sorry, that didn’t make it less complex.”

“Maybe you’ll let me read it one day,” Geralt said, running his fingers up and down Jaskier’s bare arm.

“Oh? I mean, yes, you’re welcome to read it. I have a stack of copies. I just...you might be bored,” Jaskier said, rubbing his fingers together unable to stop the fidgeting.

“I doubt it. Sounds interesting. Your turn, Doctor.”

“Right.” Jaskier couldn’t fight the laugh that bubbled up. “I don’t think I have ever used the title. Never felt right. Anyway, did you go to college?” 

“Not right away. Joined the military right out of high school. Didn’t have money for school. Eskel was a year ahead of me, and he’d already joined up. He told me not to do it, but I was stubborn. Didn’t know what to do with myself, and that seemed as good an option as any. Took some business classes when I came back, and started the security firm after that.” 

Jaskier had a feeling there was a lot more to that story than what Geralt was telling him, but he accepted it nonetheless.

“Your turn,” Jaskier said, giving him a small nudge.

“If you weren’t a professor, what would you want to be?”

“That’s easy. I play gigs when I’m not teaching. I love playing for a crowd. I don’t get to do it as much as I’d like, but music is a love of mine. How about you? If you weren’t in private security?”

“Hmm.” Geralt looked down at the table for a long time. “It’s been so long, I haven’t really thought about what else I would be…”

“You never dreamed of being something ridiculous when you were growing up?” Jaskier asked him, smiling. 

“I stopped having dreams after my mother abandoned me…”

Jaskier’s eyes widened at the same time Geralt’s did, and he immediately realized that Geralt hadn’t meant to share that. They just stared at each other for a moment before Jaskier bit his lip. 

“I think it’s your turn…”

“I think I should get going. Eskel has Ciri and…”

“Shit, it’s your weekend. You always have Ciri when we have these. You didn’t need to give up time with your daughter for me…”

Geralt sighed. “Eskel volunteered to take her hiking to the lake…I’ve been staying with him for the past month or so, but I’m closing on a place here in the city this week.”

Jaskier grinned at him. “That’s great, Geralt. That’s...Ciri will be so happy.”

“She’s already picked out her room and insisted that the walls are going to be green. She’s also asked if we can paint the kitchen purple…”

“Ciri has very discerning taste.”

Geralt snorted. “If I wasn’t already gray when she was born, I would be now anyway.”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way, you cantankerous oaf.” Jaskier elbowed him gently in the ribs, and Geralt squeezed him to his side to prevent further abuse.

“Mm.”

“Do you think we could try one of those more private calls one of these days, or would you like to stick to this for now?” Jaskier asked as Geralt drained his glass of water.

“I’ll see if I have time while Eskel’s at work one day, if you’re available.”

“Don’t you two work together?”

“Hmm...he and Lambert decided that I should take a break from taking jobs and focus on the business side of things. So, I’ve been handling contracts and meetings which Eskel used to handle for the most part.”

“Am I an asshole if I tell you that’s good?”

Geralt chuckled. “It was good to see you, Jaskier.”

“It was lovely as always, Geralt,” Jaskier replied, leaning in to kiss Geralt softly. 

Geralt returned to kiss with a chaste one of his own before bumping Jaskier’s nose with his. He pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s forehead as he slid out of the bench seat. 

“Can I walk you to your car?” Jaskier asked.

“Didn’t drive, and aren’t you supposed to be greeting people?” Geralt looked amused as he straightened his jacket.

“They’re fine,” Jaskier waved to the room dismissively.

Geralt shook his head like Jaskier was particularly amusing. “I’m walking to Lambert’s.”

“I have two functional legs. I’m even wearing boots that don’t pinch today.”

“Worried my honor is at risk?” Geralt asked, leaning against the table.

“Can’t be too careful.”

“Hmm. It’s a few blocks away.”

“I have a car…I’ll even let you drive.”

“Yeah, fine.” Geralt had the look of a man who didn’t have the energy to fight, but Jaskier took the gift for what it was.

Jaskier pushed himself out of the booth in a flash, taking Geralt’s offered hand. He followed Geralt out of the bar, waving his fingers at Yennefer who just gave him the finger. 

Once they were outside, Geralt dropped his hand in favor of motioning for Jaskier’s car keys. Jaskier rolled his eyes but handed them over.

“Are you okay?” he asked once they were seated in the car, and the air conditioner was blasting.

Geralt nodded, just staring straight ahead for a moment. Eventually, he looked over at Jaskier. “Still not big on crowds.”

“Geralt, you really don’t have to come…”

“No. It’s good. I’ve kept myself away for so long, I just...need some time to get used to it.”

Jaskier reached over and took Geralt’s hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I imagined seeing you again a lot. I just never would’ve imagined it would’ve been like this which is probably silly since it was how we met in the first place.”

“I borrowed Eskel’s car and drove to your house at least half a dozen times. I just couldn’t get out of the car. Surprised your neighbors didn’t call the police on me to be honest. This seemed easier.”

Jaskier bit his lip. He wanted to tell Geralt that he didn’t want this to be hard for him, but he knew that it had nothing to do with him. So, he squeezed his hand again, leaning over to kiss him softly. He hoped Geralt would forgive his lack of words, but his fears were quelled when Geralt pulled him back in for another rather than driving them away.

* * *

Jaskier was sitting at his desk in his spare room, going over an old manuscript when his phone buzzed. Spinning the chair to reach his phone, he saw that he had a message from Geralt. It had been over a week since he saw him, but Geralt had sent him a few brief messages. Mostly, he’d sent pictures since he wasn’t always up for speaking. So, Jaskier had a stash of photos such as Ciri falling asleep in Geralt’s arms while watching movies, Eskel giving the camera the finger while sporting a ridiculous head full of braids that were clearly Ciri’s doing, and a picture of Geralt holding a goat in pajamas—the goat wearing them, not Geralt.

Jaskier was expecting another silly picture as he opened the message, but his heart stuttered as he read the text message.

—Eskel’s at a job, and I don’t have any meetings this afternoon. If you are free, would you like to video call?—

Jaskier almost fell out of his chair in his haste to reply.

_—YES!—_

Jaskier tossed the manuscript onto the pile he had beside his computer, and he closed out of what he was working on in favor of opening the video platform. Another text came through as Jaskier attempted to smooth his messy hair.

—I’ll be on in a minute. Just let me change out of my suit.—

Jaskier bit his lip as he typed.

_—Leave it on?—_

Geralt’s response was quick, so Jaskier assumed he’d expected Jaskier’s reply.

—Itches—

_—Can I see it, then you can take it off?—_

Rather than reply, Geralt called through the program. Jaskier answered immediately, grinning when he was met with Geralt standing away from the camera, so Jaskier could see all of him in the pressed suit.

“You are mouth-wateringly handsome,” Jaskier said, adjusting the screen to get a better look at Geralt. It was a simple all black suit, but it hugged Geralt’s muscles beautifully.

“Can I change now?” Geralt sounded grumpy, but he still waited for Jaskier’s reply.

“Can I see the back first?” Jaskier asked sheepishly.

Geralt hummed loud enough for it to be picked up by the microphone, and he turned around. 

“Okay, now, you may take off the jacket, but I want to see your butt in those pants,” Jaskier said, gripping the edge of the desk.

“Didn’t call for a scene.”

“Sorry.” Jaskier cringed at how the request came out more like a command.

“It’s fine. Just want to be clear,” Geralt said, taking off his jacket and tossing it out of the frame. “You good?”

“I am more than good,” Jaskier said, biting his lip at the way Geralt’s pants clung to his ass. “You can call me back if you’d rather change in peace…”

Geralt turned around, already unbuttoning his shirt. “Not shy,” he muttered, tugging his shirt out of his pants and shrugging it off. He tossed it over where the jacket had gone and he unbuckled his belt.

Jaskier stared at the screen feeling his pulse pick up as Geralt casually undressed like he wasn’t putting on a show for Jaskier to see.

“Fuck, Geralt.”

Geralt glanced at the screen, walking closer and leaning down to look at Jaskier’s image. “How are you?” he asked, straightening up again and unbuttoning his pants. 

“You are doing this on purpose!” Jaskier watched Geralt push his trousers down to reveal his black boxers. 

“You’re easy to wind up.”

“And you would use it against me when I haven’t had the pleasure of another’s company for two months.” Jaskier slapped his hand against his desk for emphasis.

Geralt froze, staring at Jaskier through the screen. “You haven’t been with anyone since…” 

“No, why have you?” Jaskier asked. He hadn’t thought Geralt might be sleeping with people in his absence. Jaskier had his share of insecurities about the way things had ended, but worrying that Geralt was sleeping with people while avoiding him wasn’t one of them.

“No. I just figured you...you didn’t have to be celibate,” Geralt said, picking up the computer and carrying it over to his bed where his suit was piled. He took a seat on the small bed, and crossed his legs, looking at Jaskier’s image.

“I...I know. I just. Things were complicated, and work was a lot. It just seemed like a good time to lay off everything,” Jaskier admitted. 

“Hmm.” Geralt was frowning, but he didn’t press Jaskier further which was a bit of a relief.

“So, why the suit?” Jaskier asked, changing the subject. Geralt hadn’t put other clothes on, so he was sitting in just his boxers in front of the screen, and Jaskier was feeling a little hot in his t-shirt and jeans.

“Had a meeting then a therapy appointment,” Geralt said, pulling the hair tie out of his hair and putting it all up in a messy bun. 

Jaskier bit his lip, trying to concentrate, but Geralt was a distraction. “Everything go okay?”

“Mm. I told her I wanted to call you because I had the afternoon to myself, so she went easy on me.” Geralt scratched his bare chest, and Jaskier could tell he was still adjusting after wearing the suit for hours. 

Jaskier couldn’t fight the smile that spread across his face. “She went easy on you.”

“Mm. Talked about how the closing went, and what I want from these calls.”

“Right, you closed on your new place. How did it go?”

“Fine. Won’t make it to the Munch on Saturday. Promised Ciri we’d paint her room,” Geralt said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That’s okay. Painting is important. Still green?”

“Now she wants blue, but I’m sure it will change again when we go buy the paint.”

Jaskier smiled. Geralt was so laid back about Ciri. It was really sweet.

“Once things are set up, I can call more. Though, Ciri threatened to visit _all the time_ , so I can’t actually promise that.”

Jaskier snorted. “Do you and Yennefer have an actual custody agreement, or is it actually as loose as Ciri seems to think it is?”

Geralt smiled. “Legally, we have joint custody. We work out the schedule ourselves because it’s easier. We’ve never really explained it to Ciri. If she wants to visit, she asks. If she misses Yen, then I bring her home. Yen and I have had plenty of blow ups through the years, but we both try to make sure it doesn’t affect Ciri.”

Jaskier’s throat felt tight as he swallowed around the lump in it. “That’s very mature.”

Geralt laughed softly. “I guess.”

“Right, so what did you tell your therapist you want out of this, or is that confidential?” Jaskier asked, picking up his laptop to head over to the bed in the spare room, to mimic Geralt’s position.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I just want to hear your voice…”

Jaskier smiled. “I have it on good authority that I love to talk, so you may be in luck.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to sex or scenes...but I think I fucked that up.”

“Why do you say that?” Jaskier asked, doing his best to study Geralt through the screen. Even though it was high definition, it wasn’t the same as being right there. It was something he’d get used to.

Geralt looked up at the ceiling, and Jaskier could see him sigh deeply. “How much time do you have?”

“As much as you need. Talk to me, Geralt. What’s wrong?”

Geralt let out another sigh, and then was silent for a while. Jaskier was starting to think that he wasn’t going to answer when Geralt finally looked into the camera again. “That first day we met, you admitted to knowing who I was…”

“Yeah, you’re pretty well known on the local boards and groups…”

“Mm...I was very involved in the community around the time I met Yennefer. I was a switch, and I was happy to do just about anything…”

Jaskier felt the hairs at the back of his neck rise, and his gut twisted with the fear that something terrible happened to Geralt.

“...it was _good_. I liked the power I had to get exactly what I wanted, and I’d always loved the power exchange from even my first sexual experiences. I met Yen because I attended orgies once in a while back then. I had a few partners I saw with semi-regularity. It was good. Then we took a job not long after I found out Yen was pregnant. Protecting a wealthy family. A lot of things went to hell on that job, but it came to a head when Eskel caught the son attacking the daughter and went to break it up. The girl was so terrified she attacked Eskel and nearly took out his eye. The family tried to blame Eskel even though the girl insisted it wasn’t him who attacked her...It’s hard to explain why, but it brought back a lot of issues we all thought we had buried. We all retreated, stopped trusting outsiders. I stopped being open with partners after that. It became a transaction more than anything. I still got what I wanted, that high and the release, but I stopped giving myself. So, when you asked me what I wanted, I told you what I tell everyone. When you asked about our scenes, I told you what I tell everyone…”

“But not actually what you like or wanted,” Jaskier said, taking a steadying breath of his own. “Okay...that certainly explains _some_ things. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but I suspect there is a lot of backstory you skipped, which is fine. So, I guess the thing is, do you want to open up to me and have an honest discussion of what you want?” 

Jaskier desperately wanted Geralt to say yes, but he didn’t know if he had a chance of fighting over a decade of keeping people out.

“You aren’t angry?”

“Geralt, I am furious, but you also told me from the start that this was a one time thing. I don’t tell one-time partners my entire life history either, so I can’t really expect you to have laid it all bare for what you were sure wasn’t going to be anything but a single scene. Then we sort of fell into it, and I really don’t know when you would’ve had time to tell me it all. We were stupid and irresponsible, but that’s life…”

“Hmm.”

“No humming. If you want to unfuck this, we are going to talk. It doesn’t have to be today, but when you’re ready we’ll do the whole thing. And you’ll contribute when I ask for input on a scene, and we’ll actually make time to talk after instead of climbing a literal mountain.”

Geralt smiled at that. 

“Are you amenable to that?” Jaskier asked.

“I don’t know why you’re bothering with me…”

“I thought Ciri told you that I love you.”

“Assumed she made that up with everything else.”

“Not that, and not everything.”

“Oh.” 

“Now, Geralt. Are you amenable?”

“Yeah…”

“But?” Jaskier prompted, hearing the off inflection in Geralt’s tone. It was easier to read Geralt than it should’ve been, but that man was an open book if Jasier listened.

“But maybe not all at once.”

“We can take as long as you need,” Jaskier said, giving him a smile. 

“Okay.”

Geralt’s shoulders sagged a bit, as though he had been expecting more of a fit.

“Geralt?”

“Hmm?”

Jaskier let the hum slide since he didn’t really require more than acknowledgement. “Perhaps we can start next time. I have an idea for today if you feel comfortable with it.”

“What?”

“I’m still sporting a semi from your very unenthusiastic striptease...maybe we could get off together. No scene. Just talking to each other or watching each other…” Jaskier studied the surprisingly clear video to make sure Geralt wasn’t uncomfortable, but his shoulders relaxed, and he laughed.

“If we get off, you have to promise to end the call when we finish...no pillow talk.”

“You want to be alone.” It wasn’t a question. It seemed to be Geralt’s one hard rule after a scene or even just sex. 

Geralt sobered and looked straight into the camera. “I’m not ready for you to see me.”

“Okay. I promise.”

Geralt didn’t immediately do anything, so Jaskier tugged his own shirt off and began to wrestle with his jeans. He caught Geralt watching him with an amused expression on his face, and Jaskier just grinned as he shimmied his skinny jeans off his legs with great difficulty.

“You’re not usually this enthusiastic about taking off your clothes,” Geralt commented, settling back against the pillows behind him.

Jaskier blushed a little. “You’re not the only one who learned to protect himself during scenes. I guess when you have enough partners, you learn the shortcuts to enjoying yourself with the least chance of things going to shit.”

Geralt nodded. “I like your body.”

“I do too. I just prefer to stay dressed unless I’m with a recurring partner.”

“Not judging. Are those lace?”

Jaskier glanced down, realizing he was wearing lace panties because they fit under his skinny jeans without bunching. “Ah, yes?”

“I hate lace.”

“Oh.”

“Fuck. Not on you. I can’t wear it. Irritates my skin.”

Jaskier laughed, running his hand over the red lace covering his erection. “Yeah, it can definitely get irritating, but going bare ass in denim is definitely worse.”

“Mm. Show them to me.”

Jaskier smiled, kneeling in front of the camera. “I’ve got a couple pairs, but I usually just wear boxers.”

“You look good.”

Jaskier’s smile only grew at Geralt’s words. He reached down and palmed his cock through the delicate material. “Keep up, Geralt,” he teased as he stroked himself, enjoying the sensation of the lace against his skin.

Geralt smirked, reaching down to release his cock from his boxers. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but Jaskier groaned watching him gently play with his foreskin. Geralt hummed softly as he shifted his hips then stroked himself a couple times, retracting his foreskin until the head of his cock was completely visible.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

Jaskier hadn’t paid much attention to the fact that Geralt was uncut before. He never focused on it during a scene unless a partner told him specifically that they enjoyed it because he knew some people were very sensitive, and when someone was tied up was rarely the time for surprises. However, watching Geralt focus on it was really hot, and Jaskier’s own cock was straining in his panties.

“Keep up.” Geralt gave him a slow smile as he used Jaskier’s words against him.

Jaskier huffed, but he tugged the waistband of the panties down until his cock was free. He stroked himself, mimicking Geralt’s moves and groaning as he teased the head.

Not many words were shared as they watched each other, taking turns guiding the movement. Jaskier reached into his underwear and cupped his balls, biting his lip when Geralt immediately followed suit. Geralt pushed his fingers further back and teased the sensitive area behind his testicles. Jaskier nearly lost his balance as he did the same, moaning at his own touch.

There was something innocent about it that brought Jaskier back to his youth. There was no shame as they explored themselves and in doing so explored each other. 

Jaskier gasped when he looked up from where Geralt’s hand was stroking his cock with an ever changing rhythm. Geralt’s eyes were on him, and there was no other word for it but adoration. Jaskier felt his balls tighten, and he groaned as he spilled over his fist, but there was no stopping it. He continued to watch Geralt watch him, and he felt unbelievably warm as Geralt smiled softly.

“Want to see you,” Jaskier mumbled, stroking himself more gently through the aftershocks.

“I’m close,” Geralt promised, but his voice was already deep and rough.

“I love to watch you as you tip over the edge. I don’t think anything can compare to the way you look right before—”

Geralt’s lips parted slightly, and his head tipped back, eyes closing. Jaskier bit his lip when a moment later Geralt’s cock spilled over his fingers. He stopped stroking immediately, seeming to squeeze and relax his fist several times as the last dribbles fell onto his thigh.

“Perfection,” Jaskier whispered, watching Geralt’s breathing slow. He was gorgeous like this, hair a mess and covered in a light sheen of sweat. 

“You promised,” Geralt mumbled.

Jaskier frowned, not realizing he meant immediately. “Sorry, please text me when you’re done.”

“Mm. Goodbye Jaskier.”

“Bye Geralt.”

Jaskier ended the call, and looked down at the mess in his lap. “He’s very lucky he is worth it,” Jaskier muttered, tugging his panties off completely and using them to clean his cock and hand. He dumped them in the hamper as he walked across the hall to the shower.

When he returned to the room to go back to work, there was a message waiting for him on his phone. It was a screencap of a pair of satin men’s panties with a text attached.

—I can wear satin.—

“Fuck.” Jaskier bit his bottom lip as he imagined Geralt wearing those. He was definitely worth it.


	13. What Makes You Happy?

Once he opened the door for video chats, Geralt lasted all of two days before he found a chance to call Jaskier again. He felt silly as he was putting together the furniture that had been delivered to the new house while debating whether he should bother Jaskier. He’d never allowed himself to ask for things, and the thought of asking Jaskier for his time was daunting even if Jaskier would likely happily give it. 

“Fuck it,” Geralt pulled out his phone and texted.

—You free?—

The answer wasn’t as immediate as usual, but Geralt wasn't one to hover over sent messages either. He went back to separating the various screws and nuts he’d need to construct the desk for his home office. He’d painted the office a sage green the night before, it would be ready by the time he finished with the furniture for it.

Geralt’s phone buzzed as he was fitting the legs to the main body of the desk. He carefully put the pieces down and picked up his phone.

_—For you? Always.—_

Geralt frowned slightly at that. He didn’t really reciprocate Jaskier’s words which was the problem. They were a lot. Geralt knew he wasn’t always free for Jaskier, and it frightened him that Jaskier would realize that Geralt _couldn’t_ give all of himself all of the time and decide he wasn’t worth it. He also didn’t want their relationship to be unbalanced. He didn’t want Jaskier to have to carry the whole relationship because he knew that wasn’t fair.

Sighing, Geralt reminded himself that catastrophizing wasn’t the answer. His therapist had been trying to help him through his bad habit of overthinking and under communicating. 

—Video?—

_—Ready when you are.—_

Geralt got up and went to his backpack where he’d packed his laptop when he’d left Eskel’s house that morning. His bed wouldn’t be delivered until the following day, so he was still crashing at Eskel’s place. It hadn’t been nearly as terrible as he’d thought it would be. Eskel had been going out of his way to give Geralt space, and he didn’t try to have any deep conversations with him, telling him that he was happy to let the therapist handle it. Geralt appreciated that.

Placing his laptop on the floor beside where he was working, Geralt signed in and opened the app he needed. Within a few seconds he was calling Jaskier who picked up almost immediately.

Geralt smiled at the image of Jaskier stretched out on his couch wearing lounge pants and an over-sized t-shirt. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and even his stubble looked soft and inviting. 

“Don’t you have a job?” Geralt asked, making sure to keep his tone teasing.

“Not for a few more weeks, my dear. I am enjoying my freedom while I can. I didn't wear pants for two straight days this week. Though even when my summer course begins, it won’t be like a regular semester, though pants will be required...anyway, I am all yours,” Jaskier said, rolling onto his stomach and kicking his feet up as he smiled at the camera which must have been on the coffee table.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, but he didn’t stop smiling. “What are you doing there?”

“Building a desk.”

“Oh, are you at your new place?”

“Hmm.”

“I want a tour!”

Geralt looked around, frowning. “It’s just an empty house. I’ve only painted the office…”

“Geralt! I want to see your house. I want to see the place you chose to raise your daughter and build your life.” Jaskier’s expression was so earnest, that Geralt tried to rein in his huff. “What?” Clearly, Jaskier could still read it.

“I didn’t choose the house, Jaskier. Yennefer did.”

“You let Yennefer choose the house you are going to live in? You let _Yennefer_ pick the place you’re spending thousands and thousands of dollars on?” Jaskier’s eyes were wide and he shifted, grabbing the laptop and pulling it into his lap.

Geralt sighed, running his hand down his face. “It’s a good house.”

“Not the point. Why did Yennefer pick your house?” His hands were flapping like he was shocked beyond belief by the news.

“Because it’s in a better neighborhood than the bar. Next year, we can send Ciri to the school my address goes to. It’s a better school, and that school goes to a better high school. If I’m trying to do what’s best for Ciri, moving to a place with a better school system seemed reasonable. It also has a yard which she doesn’t have at Yen’s,” Geralt explained, looking around the house. 

The house really wasn’t what Geralt would have chosen, but he also lived in a cabin he’d built with his brothers. His tastes were not as sophisticated as Yennefer’s when it came to housing. However, she knew him well enough to pick something that he was happy with that didn’t even bend the budget he’d given her. He was pleased with it.

“Geralt?”

“Mm.”

“You let your friends order your drinks at the bar. You let them choose where to hang out. Most people don’t let them choose their house,” Jaskier explained like he was speaking to a very young child. Somehow it didn’t come off as patronizing but deeply concerned.

“I toured it before I agreed. Ciri did too,” Geralt said, picking up one of the screws in the package and studying it closely.

“But it’s yours.” Jaskier sounded like the words pained him.

“And Ciri’s. It’s a roof and walls to me, Jaskier. Ciri loves it. It’s got a good school. I’m close enough to give Yen a break when she needs it.”

“What was the last thing that was really important that you chose for yourself?”

Geralt looked at him, confused by the question. Jaskier looked deeply concerned as he stared through the screen.

“Geralt, I don’t want to...I’m not trying to upset you...I just…” Jaskier sighed, looking up at the ceiling before looking back at the camera. “You do everything for others. You buy a house for your daughter. You let your ex-lover choose it to meet her needs for Ciri. You let your sexual partners dictate scenes. That’s just off the top of my head. I love how fiercely protective you are of your loved ones. I love how much you care, but I want you to have things for you too.”

Frowning, Geralt took several breaths as his therapist had instructed him as he tried to fully take in Jaskier’s words. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t an attack despite the way he felt his brain flashing warning signs. This wasn’t a trap. Jaskier was allowed to be concerned. He had good reason to be concerned after the things Geralt had done.

Rolling the screw around in the palm of his hand, he really thought about Jaskier’s words. What had he ever really chosen for himself? There weren’t a whole lot of things on that list. He knew it likely had to do with his childhood. He’d learned young not to demand things. Getting abandoned by his mother certainly hadn’t given him much trust in people. 

His job was important to him, but he hadn’t really chosen it. It was just the only thing he had felt he was skilled to do after the military. Ciri was his world, but he’d never for a second imagined having her until Yen found him and explained that she was pregnant. Being a part of her life wasn’t a choice. He’d never let himself give up on her even if his world was on fire.

“You,” Geralt said, knowing it was the only honest answer he had.

“What about me?” Jaskier scratched at the chest hair peeking out of the stretched collar of his shirt. He seemed like he’d forgotten the question he’d asked.

Geralt rolled his eyes. “ _You_.”

“Me?” Now, Jaskier sounded very confused.

“You are the last thing... _person_...I chose for myself.”

He could hear jaskier suck in a quick breath which was followed by a lengthy silence. His eyes were wide as he stared into the camera like he was actually making eye contact with Geralt.

“Shit. Right...I walked right into that, but I was definitely not prepared for it…” Jaskier’s eyes looked particularly glassy as he looked up at the ceiling for a moment. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at it and messing it.

Geralt gave him a moment, going back to assembling his desk. When Jaskier didn’t immediately start talking again, Geral filled the silence.

“You wanted to know what I told Ciri when she asked the moment I knew I loved you?” His hands shook slightly as he asked it. He hadn’t intended to tell Jaskier what he’d said. Ciri was right, Jaskier probably deserved more romance than that, but he also deserved honesty which Geralt wasn’t always entirely capable of. He never outright lied, but sometimes the words to give the full picture just weren't there, and he was beginning to see lies by omission were just as capable of hurting.

“You know I’ve been dying to know,” Jaskier said, lifting the hem of his t-shirt to wipe at his eyes.

Geralt kept working as he formulated his words. He didn’t immediately look at the camera when he spoke. “The hotel. After you’d stolen the phone from me and hung it up. I was furious, and you clearly knew it...but you still defended Ciri. You pointed out that I didn’t always do what was best for her even if it wasn’t your place...that was it. Ciri thought it was...not worth telling you. I just...I’m not a perfect parent. I put so much energy into not fucking Ciri up the way I was that sometimes I lose sight of everything else...I can’t get close to people who don’t understand that Ciri will always be my world...but in a moment that couldn’t be manufactured, you chose my daughter when it didn’t serve you, when it directly pissed me off...I knew...”

He tightened one of the screws as he waited for Jaskier to speak. 

“Was that disappointing? Not romantic enough?” Geralt asked when Jaskier didn’t say anything.

“Geralt, _look_ at me,” Jaskier said, and Geralt looked up at the screen.

“Fuck.” 

Jaskier had tears running down his face as he sniffled loud enough for the microphone to pick it up. For as much as Jaskier had a flare for the dramatic, he wasn’t one to cry over nothing. The tears were earnest and because of Geralt.

“Thank you for telling me...the real version, not the fabricated one with warm fuzzies and dazzling romance. I’ll always prefer the real you even if it’s not perfect and shiny, Geralt. That aside, I don’t think I could’ve imagined a sweeter scenario.” Jaskier grinned at the camera. “It will make a lovely scene when I eventually write my tell-all memoir.”

Geralt shook his head, smiling at Jaskier’s words. He turned to face the screen even as he still sat in the middle of the supplies for his desk. 

“I didn’t call to confess to you...at least not that.”

“And why did you call, my love?” Jaskier asked, wiping at his tears.

Geralt wanted to be able to wipe them for him, but he still didn’t feel secure enough to meet him in person when they weren’t in public. Rationally, he knew that he’d never be a threat to Jaskier under normal circumstances. However, the wound left by that night still felt raw, and he wasn’t ready to face that yet. He was also rational enough to realize that his fears were depriving them both of the intimacy of doing these things in person. His therapist had explained—probably more times than she should’ve had to—that he couldn’t rationalize with anxiety. 

“I called about our scenes.”

Jaskier’s whole face lit up. “About what we want?”

“Mm.”

Jaskier moved to lie back on the couch with his laptop propped up on his knees to tilt down on him. He looked comfortable. His eyes were soft as he smiled into the camera.

“Do you still want to?”

Geralt shrugged. He wasn’t sure he was up for it now that he’d confessed so much already. 

“What if I start, and you just have to listen?”

“I can listen.” He carefully adjusted one of the legs of the desk, keeping himself occupied.

“Okay, but there are rules for listening.”

Geralt smiled, shaking his head. Of course, there were rules for listening. “They are?”

“They are that you have to listen with an open mind. My likes have no bearing on you. If I tell you something I enjoy, but you hate, don’t overthink it. If I say I don’t like something, but you enjoy it, I still want to know you enjoy it when you’re ready to tell me.”

“I know how this works,” he grumbled. 

“I know that, but you also let me do whatever the hell I wanted without taking your own desires into account. I know that you could probably teach me a lot, but that’s not the same as doing it.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

Geralt sighed. “I will follow the rules.”

“There we go. Let me know if I go too fast or you want clarification.”

“Mhmm.”

“I’ll let that one slide, but I am on to you, Mr. White Wolf,” Jaskier said, pointing his finger at the camera.

Geralt rolled his eyes but went back to what he was doing. He could see Jaskier poke his tongue out in thought from the corner of his eye.

“I love praise whether I’m the one giving it or receiving it. It is probably my favorite thing no matter the type of scene. I sometimes struggle with partners who prefer humiliation or just do not want praise at all, but I’ve done it, and I can do it if praise makes you uncomfortable.”

“Like your praise, Jaskier.” he doesn’t want Jaskier to doubt their every interaction because Geralt had truly loved every single one of them even if they hadn’t been by the book. Jaskier and his style had never been the problem.

Jaskier’s whole face lit up as Geralt said it. “See that? Communication. This is going swimmingly already.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, trying to convey exasperation that he wasn’t actually feeling. 

“I also enjoy food play. Love to feed my partners. Sometimes I like to be fed as well…”

Geralt listened carefully as Jaskier went through the things he enjoyed, cutting in every once in a while, but for the most part just being open to Jaskier’s thoughts. He continued to set up his desk as Jaskier spoke, the task giving him something to do with himself, so he wouldn’t fixate on Jaskier’s words. 

“...and spanking. I like spanking both ways, but I’ll confess that I think one of my favorite punishments is to make my sub spank me. Show them physically what their disobedience or rejection feels like to me…”

Geralt looked up at that. Jaskier was still lying back on his couch, but he was now eating a box of Girl Scout cookies that had somehow materialized in his hand a while back. There were Thin Mint crumbs on his shirt and in his chest hair, and it was hard not to be charmed by it.

“You’d ask me to spank you if I fucked up?” Geralt asked, moving closer to the laptop. The desk was almost complete, just needed to tighten a few screws and it was done, so he wasn’t worried about leaving it.

“Only if you were open to it. Admittedly, I don’t punish my subs very often. I’m not Yen. I’m much more the pampering type. So when I do punish my partners, it’s usually uncomfortable for both of us, but hopefully rewarding too?” He frowned a little after he said it like he wasn’t sure he’d made much sense.

“And your subs have never used it to their own advantage?”

“I am not a complete fool, Geralt.”

Geralt smiled at that. “I’d be open to it. Do you talk the whole time you are spanked?”

Jaskier huffed. “You’ll only find out if you need a firm punishment.” He crossed his arms and gave Geralt a smug look.

“You babble the whole time.”

“Shut up. You are very rude.”

“Mm. You should probably punish me for that.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes dramatically. “I would hardly call this _listening_.”

Geralt smiled. “What else do you like?”

“I think I covered most of it?”

“Hmm.”

“Are you ready to share yours, or would you like to wait for another day?” Jaskier asked, brushing the crumbs off his chest then sprinkling them into his mouth. Geralt’s chest felt tight.

“Maybe a few.”

“As much as you’re comfortable with…”

“They come with qualifications…”

“Meaning?”

“I like this under these circumstances, or I like that if I trust the person,” Geralt said the words he’d rehearsed with his therapist several days earlier. 

Jaskier nodded, biting his bottom lip. “Okay. Can I be honest with you?”

“Mm.” Geralt nodded.

“I think this is something better done in person. I understand that you would prefer to do it this way, and I’ll respect that. I just…”

“...want to touch me and cajole me?”

“Something like that.”

Geralt nodded. He knew he couldn’t do what Jaskier wanted, and a very large part of him wanted to end the call here. However, he just sat and waited the feeling out. 

“Right, well, I will listen to whatever you have to say, and if I’ve totally made a mess of things today, we can always try again another time.” He gave Geralt a soft smile before eating another cookie.

“Maybe later.”

“Would you like to let me watch you build furniture instead? If so, I wouldn’t be opposed to you working shirtless. I imagine it is probably warm there if you are moving boxes and building things.

Geralt rolled his eyes as he moved the laptop to the newly erected desk. Now, he needed to build the office chair to go with it. He sort of wished he’d taken Eskel up on the offered help. However, it felt nice to do it on his own at his own pace. He’d have Ciri to distract him tomorrow and the next day.

“Or you could leave the shirt on like the cruel tease you are,” Jaskier said, wrinkling his nose as a crumb fell on it.

Geralt rolled his eyes, but he did peel the damp shirt off of himself. He was warm because he had all of the windows open to air the place out since he was painting each room. 

“Now this is better than the _Real Housewives of Redania_ ,” Jaskier proclaimed.

Geralt rolled his eyes and adjusted the laptop, so Jaskier had a clear view of him as he opened the box that held the pieces of his new chair. Geralt heard Jaskier whistle as he was bent over cutting through the tape that held the box closed. He shook his head, but didn’t do anything to dissuade Jaskier.

“Don’t do anything sexy while I’m gone. I need a beer and some popcorn for this.”

Geralt sighed as he watched Jaskier put the laptop down and jog away. A small smile played on his lips at Jaskier’s antics.

* * *

“Can we do green and pink stripes?” Ciri asked, studying the paint swatches very seriously.

“Like a watermelon?”

Ciri frowned, giving that some thought. “Yeah.”

“Maybe something less…” Geralt tried to come up with a diplomatic way of saying awful, but he really didn’t know what else to call it.

“What about rainbow?”

“Walls? Or a rainbow on your wall?” Geralt tried to clarify. He could handle getting Eskel or Lambert to help him paint an actual rainbow on her wall, but he was not about to buy six different colors of paint for her bedroom. He loved her more than anything, but even Geralt had limits.

Ciri frowned, rubbing her chin dramatically. She must have seen it in a movie because he knew that neither he nor Yennefer had ever done that when they were thinking. 

“How about teal?”

“Teal is fine, but it will make your room very dark.” 

Ciri frowned again and went back to the swatches. “I need Jaskier’s help!” she proclaimed, throwing her little hands up in the air. “He’s good at this, and he painted his bathroom, so he could help us paint.”

Geralt bit his lip realizing that once again, he had been played by his daughter. His track record was really starting to suffer, and he knew he was going to have to learn how to put his foot down before she got much older. However, he didn’t have the energy to make his stand in the middle of the paint aisle at the hardware store, after a night of almost no sleep due to nightmares. He’d ended up just doing more painting at three in the morning, so his room was painted and so was the hallway from the bedrooms to the living room.

Reaching into his pocket, Geralt grabbed his phone and handed it over to Ciri. She smiled at him as she pulled up Jaskier. Within a minute, Geralt could hear Jaskier’s chipper voice asking to what he owed the pleasure of such an early call.

“Hi, Jaskier,” Ciri said, suddenly light and chipper herself.

“Good morning, Darling. What can I do for you? And does your father know you’re calling me?” His voice carried from the speaker despite it not being set to speakerphone.

Geralt motioned for Ciri to give him the phone. Ciri handed it over before quickly getting her favorite samples in order.

“Ciri wants help picking a color for her bedroom,” Geralt said as he brought the phone to his ear.

“Oh, I would be happy to help.”

“You mind a video call?”

“Not at all.”

“Mm. I’ll call you back.” Geralt hung up and opened the video call app then called Jaskier. He handed the phone back to Ciri even before Jaskier could answer.

“Hi, Jaskier,” Ciri said again when his face appeared on the screen.

“What do you have for me, Princess?”

“Dad didn’t like my watermelon stripes idea or the rainbow stripes,” Ciri told him, sounding devastated about it.

Geralt sighed, wondering if it made him a bad parent for wanting to go finish collecting what they needed while Ciri maligned him to his boyfriend.

“Oh no! Those do sound delightful, but perhaps fewer colors would be for the best? Though I hear that accent walls are all the rage. Perhaps a watermelon or rainbow accent wall would be a more manageable project for your father,” Jaskier said, and Geralt could just see him over Ciri’s shoulder.

“What’s an accent wall?” Ciri asked, and Geralt ran his fingers through her soft hair, coming to stand directly behind her. This way they could both be on the call. Perhaps it was a little self-serving, but Geralt wanted to be able to see Jaskier.

“It’s when you paint one wall different than the others, so it stands out,” Jaskier dutifully explained. 

“So I could paint three walls green and then have one watermelon wall?”

Somehow that sounded more horrifying than her original plan, and Jaskier must have seen the unadulterated horror on Geralt’s face because he very gracefully backtracked.

“That is certainly a possibility, Ciri, but this is an important decision. You need to think about what colors make you feel warm and happy and safe. Your bedroom should always make you feel that way, so if a watermelon wall is what makes you feel those things, I think your father would be more than happy to paint your room that color, but it should be what you’re feeling in your heart, not just what you think your father will let you get away with,” Jaskier explained.

Ciri nodded dutifully before humming softly. That she had definitely picked up from Geralt, and it made him smile. 

“I think I know what I want,” she told Jaskier. 

“Wonderful!”

“Will you come help us paint?” she asked before he could gracefully end the conversation.

“Oh…”

“You don’t have to. I know you’re busy this morning, but if you wanted to come by after and see the place, you’re welcome to,” Geralt clarified, not wanting to put Jaskier on the spot. “You don’t need to answer now. I can send the address, and if you aren—”

“I would love to.” There wasn’t a hint of discomfort or dishonesty in Jaskier’s expression as he looked at them both. “I should be free by around two o’clock. I could bring over a late lunch.”

“That would be great,” Geralt agreed, resting his hands on Ciri’s shoulders as she bounced in excitement. 

“I look forward to seeing your paint choices, Ciri.”

“You can help us paint the accent wall,” she said.

“I would be honored to help. I’ll let you go, so you don’t spend the whole day in the paint aisle.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier smiled at them. “Until later, Ciri. Give your father a kiss for me.”

Ciri nodded and turned to give Geralt a big smacking kiss on the cheek which made Jaskier laugh. 

“Goodbye, Geralt.”

“Bye.” Geralt ended the call and looked down at Ciri. “What colors did you choose?”

She looked up at him smiling, and held up the swatches she chose. Geralt frowned a little at the choices, but nodded. It was her room. So long as he didn’t have to manage rainbow stripes on all the walls, he could deal with anything.

* * *

Ciri took painting very seriously. Geralt wasn’t quite sure how he had been blessed with a child more interested in making certain she didn’t accidentally get paint on the trim than “accidentally” getting paint on Geralt, but he had. She wasn’t perfect at making it all uniform and even, but he would put a final coat on it to hide any imperfections once she went to bed or back to Yen’s. 

When Ciri had asked for gray walls with a warm yellow accent wall, he’d been confused by the sudden shift from rainbow and watermelons. He hadn’t asked though. He’d asked if she was certain, and then he’d picked up the cans he’d need for three gray walls and one gold. 

The gray walls had mostly been painted, Ciri taking the lower section and Geralt taking anything that she couldn’t reach. It wasn’t nearly as quick as his painting, but it was good. Ciri chatted about her life, and Geralt was happy to listen.

Her dance lessons were going well, and he would need to muster the courage to go to her recital in a few weeks. She had gone to a sleepover recently, and she had to tell him all about the gossip she’d heard. Evidently, gossip is what ten year olds did at sleepovers. He was just relieved it wasn’t drugs and sneaking out yet. He remembered Lambert partaking in “sleepovers” in high schools, and not once had it ended without Eskel or Geralt picking him up from a bar, someone’s house, or the police station. Geralt was not prepared for those years. Maybe he’d tell Ciri to call Lambert if she was ever in trouble. It would serve his brother right.

“How about you, Dad? What have you been doing?” Ciri asked after going off on a tangent about two of her friends liking the same boy who, in Ciri’s expert opinion, was gross.

“Hmm?” he asked, taken off guard by her sudden interest in his life.

“Are you and Jaskier getting married?” she asked innocently.

“Not that I’m aware,” he said, letting her ask her questions. He’d always let her ask whatever was on her mind. He’d had to answer some awkward things over the years, especially when Lambert forgot that little ears were present. However, he preferred awkwardly bumbling through an answer than have her feel like she couldn’t ask him anything.

“So, you might be, but you don’t know it?” She looked up at him as he stood on the ladder, tilting her head like she was trying to work it out in her head.

“With Jaskier it’s a possibility. I’ll let you know if I am suddenly ambushed by a wedding party.” Geralt stretched to reach as far as he could from his position on the ladder without moving it. Probably not the best example to set for Ciri, but she was far more concerned with his hypothetical marriage.

“Do you think he’ll invite me?”

“Wouldn’t get married without you there, Cub. But I’m not getting married, so don’t lose sleep about it. Do you ask Yen if she’s going to marry her boyfriends?” Geralt asked, stepping down the ladder and lifting her onto his shoulders to let her paint the spot he hadn’t been able to stretch to.

“Mom says she’s never getting married. She said she isn’t sharing everything she owns with anyone but me.”

Geralt sighed. He didn’t blame Yen for that. She’d worked hard to make the bar a success. Even when things had been shaky, she hadn’t let Geralt help her out or loan her money. She’d told him that she wouldn’t be indebted to him any more than she already was for giving her Ciri. He figured if she couldn’t trust him after all they’d been through, then marrying someone else was probably a lost cause.

“Mm.”

“She won’t even let me meet them, says they aren’t important.” This had Ciri sounding disappointed.

“So, you're meddling in my relationship instead?”

Ciri smiled down at him with bright eyes, holding the roller away so neither of them got dripped on. Geralt shook his head then tipped it back. Ciri immediately dipped down to press a kiss to his forehead, then accidentally hit his arm with the roller when she forgot she was holding it.

“Sorry,” she mumbled as he looked at the gray smear over his arm and the edge of his t-shirt sleeve.

“Don’t worry about it, Cub. Painting is messy. Let’s finish this coat, so we can eat when Jaskier gets here.”

Ciri nodded and lifted the roller again to finish up the patch that Geralt had missed.

She was still on his shoulders when the doorbell began to ring. It was one of those ones that played a song, and Geralt considered it terrible. He fully intended to remove the whole bell as soon as he got the chance. It skipped a few places up the to-do list when their guest pressed it again when the song ended.

“Jaskier!” Ciri said loudly, making Geralt cringe at both her volume and the incessant noise of the bell. 

Without putting Ciri down, he walked out of the bedroom, ducking in the doorway to protect her head. Ciri laughed as she rode him through the house.

When he opened the front door, Jaskier’s eyes immediately took in the pair of them. He peeked through the doorway to get a look at Ciri whose head was above the opening of the doorway. 

“My how you’ve grown, Ciri. Is your father home, or are you painting by yourself?” Jaskier asked, pretending not to see Geralt directly in front of him.

“Just me. Want a tour?” Ciri said, not missing a beat.

Geralt rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. Even when Ciri tugged his hair gently to direct him, he held his tongue. 

“This is the front door,” Ciri explained mimicking the voice of the real estate agent they’d toured the place with. 

“Lovely,” Jaskier said, smiling up at her as she gestured for him to come inside. “I see there are high ceilings to accommodate your growth spurt.”

“Yes, that was very important,” Ciri said, nodding as she guided Geralt to the living room which was empty except for the boxes that had been delivered over the last few days and their mattresses. “This is the living room.”

Jaskier nodded along, though he was actually giving the place a thorough look, and he seemed truly impressed with it. 

Ciri led him to the kitchen where he left the box of food he carried on the large island that separated the kitchen and dining area. It wasn’t something Geralt really cared about, but Yennefer had insisted it would be good for hosting his family for the holidays...like _that_ was a good idea.

Ciri kept up her tour, showing him the bathroom and the office that Geralt had been working on during their most recent video call. Jaskier made a comment about how sturdy the desk looked, and Geralt just rolled his eyes.

“This is dad’s room. I tried to get him to let me have it, but he said no,” Ciri said, poking Geralt in the shoulder to open his bedroom door.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t go in there without your father,” Jaskier told her.

“It’s fine. It’s empty anyway,” she chirped, poking Geralt again, and this time he opened the door.

Jaskier gave him a sweet smile as he motioned Jaskier in. It was a large bedroom with vaulted ceilings and large windows. It was nicer than anything he’d ever had, but Yennefer told him it would make the house easier to sell later on. It also had a massive ensuite with a soaking tub and stall shower which Yennefer told him that she was using whenever she wanted to. In fact, she’d shown up while he was painting yesterday and had taken a bath while he finished the office up.

They walked inside where Geralt had started assembling the bed frame before Ciri arrived that morning. His mattress as well as Ciri’s were currently sitting in the middle of the living room. 

“This is...wow!” Jaskier looked up at the high ceiling then walked over to the window. “Yennefer certainly has good taste.”

“Mom says it has curb appeal.”

“I’d say it’s got more than that,” Jaskier retorted, giving Geralt a wide-eyed look as they stepped into the bathroom. “I can understand why you wanted this room, Ciri, but it would be lovely to see your room.”

“This way!”

Jaskier followed them out of the room and across the hall to Ciri’s room. “Lovely. Gray was a very neutral choice.”

“It’s going to have a yellow accent wall!” Ciri informed him with unrestrained enthusiasm.

Jaskier suddenly got this soft look in his eye as he looked at Geralt with the tenderest of smiles. “I think those were lovely choices, Ciri,” he said, looking up at her. He reached up and lifted her from Geralt’s shoulders and pulled her into a warm hug. “I can absolutely see why they’d make you feel safe and warm.”

Geralt frowned, looking at the three drab walls, trying to puzzle out what the pair of them saw in it. He just grunted when he came up empty. “Figured we could eat before tackling the yellow.”

“Ciri! Did you hear that? Was it your father?” Jaskier asked her, looking around like he couldn’t see Geralt standing beside him.

“I think it’s your imagination, Jaskier,” she said, patting his arm as he put her down.

“Fine. I’ll just eat your lunch too,” Geralt grumbled, turning to leave the room.

They didn’t immediately follow him, clearly not taking his threats seriously.

He was halfway through his sandwich when they stepped into the kitchen still whispering softly to each other. Ciri was holding Jaskier’s arm as they walked. It was endearing to see him lean down to speak privately to her.

“Oh, Geralt! You _are_ here. I didn’t hear you come in,” Jaskier said as they joined him at the table.

“Eat your lunch,” Geralt grumbled, but there was no heat behind it.

“Someone is grumpy,” Jaskier stage whispered to Ciri who giggled as she tried to snatch the pickle off of Geralt’s plate. 

Geralt was too fast, and held her sticky little hands before she could get close to her target. Her slim fingers opened and closed as though trying to reach for the pickle despite their captivity. 

“I have enough gray paint for the fourth wall,” Geralt said menacingly, but Ciri just reached for the pickle with her other hand.

Geralt stood, lifting her by her forearms before twirling her then dangling her by her ankle. Ciri laughed, wiggling in his grasp as though completely unafraid of the possibility of being dropped.

“You wouldn’t dare deprive your daughter of the accent wall. That would certainly be cruel and unusual,” Jaskier said, reaching for the pickle himself.

Geralt grabbed his wrist with his free hand and glared at him. “I would reconsider that,” he growled as Ciri cheered Jaskier on.

Jaskier batted his eyes at Geralt innocently. “Why my dear, you seem to have miscalculated. You have but one hand to block me with, when I have two,” he said, waving his free hand before reaching for the pickle.

Geralt gave his hand a yank and used his foot to trip Jaskier into falling against him even as he held Ciri out further to avoid her accidentally getting hit by Jaskier’s flailing limbs. Geralt easily took his weight, releasing his wrist and wrapping it around Jaskier’s waist as he held him out of reach of the pickle.

Jaskier blinked at him in surprise for a moment before leaning up to press a kiss to Geralt’s cheek. A warm smile lit his face as Geralt just tightened his hold on him.

“Ciri, I believe we have been bested. We shall have to be satisfied with our own lunches,” Jaskier proclaimed dramatically even as he leaned his head on Geralt’s shoulder like a swooning maiden. 

Ciri crossed her arms over her chest in a pout even as she remained upside down. 

“Will you two behave if I release you?” Geralt asked.

“I can’t be certain I won’t do something inadvisable if you release me. You should probably hold on to me a little longer,” Jaskier said unrepentantly.

“Gross. Let me down,” Ciri said, and Geralt released Jaskier to put his daughter to rights, setting her down gently once she was right side up again.

Jaskier made a sad little noise as he went about putting his and Ciri’s lunches on the paper plates he’d brought with him. Geralt itched to pull him back into his arms. He hadn’t held Jaskier in months, and that small taste had only served to increase his hunger. However, he didn’t pull Jaskier to him. 

Instead, he took the last bite of his sandwich and plucked the pickle off of it and broke it in half before placing half on Jaskier’s plate and half on Ciri’s. He threw his plate away before heading into the living room to put together some furniture while they ate.


	14. Housewarming Gifts

Ciri had fallen asleep around seven, after painting her room and helping Geralt assemble some of the furniture. She had certainly earned every bit of exhaustion she felt. Jaskier, on the other hand, was little to no help as he regaled them with stories of home improvement projects gone wrong—of which there were many. It entertained Ciri, and the lilt of his voice settled Geralt as usual. So, he didn’t bother to point out that Jaskier had hardly contributed to the whole operation.

Jaskier _had_ washed the new packages of sheets that were still in the box they’d been shipped in. He'd even made up Ciri’s mattress while she dozed off on the couch after Geralt had insisted she take a shower to get the paint off her arm and cheek. They’d made it almost the entire day without getting paint on her, but a sleepy Ciri was a clumsy one, and she’d clipped the wall with her arm as she turned to get more paint. 

Geralt came in after finishing the last coat of paint on his bedroom walls to find Ciri camped out in the living room while Jaskier and Yennefer spoke in hushed whispers in the entryway.

Yennefer raised an eyebrow at Geralt as he folded his arms over his chest. “I’d rather not wake her,” she said, looking between Geralt and their sleeping daughter.

Geralt eyed Jaskier who looked sheepish. “I didn’t realize Yennefer was coming for her, so I got her settled.”

“Hmm.”

“You staying the night or heading back to Eskel’s?” Yen asked softly.

“She can stay. I’ll probably spend most of the night painting,” Geralt told her, leaning against the wall.

“Or you could sleep…”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at Jaskier’s comment. Yen knew he wasn’t sleeping well, so it wasn’t like he needed to keep it a secret, but pointing it out to Jaskier seemed like trouble. The man was protective, and if he was anything like he was during a scene, he’d likely mother hen Geralt to death.

“Sooner this is finished the better,” he said instead.

Jaskier rolled his eyes, walking over to the couch and leaving them to talk. 

“She doesn’t need—”

“She can stay.” Geralt gave her a soft look, knowing she was giving him an out.

“If you aren’t comfortable with having her alone—”

“She can stay,” Geralt repeated. He hadn’t had her for a full weekend without one of his brothers present since he’d been injured, but he also hadn’t had a problem. He knew he was being overly cautious. She was his daughter. He was always going to be overly cautious with her safety, but he never wanted his fears to negatively impact her either. It was a tightrope, and most days he wasn’t sure how he’d managed to balance for so long. “I’ll take her for pancakes in the morning, then we can set up her bed...in her room.”

Yennefer gave him a knowing smile, but she nodded. She patted his forearm and pulled her keys out of her pocket. 

“Get some rest, Geralt,” she said, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Mm.” Geralt returned the kiss to her forehead before walking her out to her car.

“Is he staying the night?” Yen asked innocently as they walked down the driveway. She was parked on the street since Jaskier had taken the spot behind Geralt’s car. It was odd to have his own vehicle with him, since he rarely brought it into the city when he did visit.

“No.”

“I know that it’s for the best that we stay out of each other’s love lives, but I’ve known Jaskier a long time, and as much as it pains me to admit it, he is probably one of my closest friends. So, do not take this as the meddling of the mother of your child, but the concern of Jaskier’s best friend…” 

Yen leaned against the hood of her car, crossing her legs at the ankle to take some of the weight off her lethal looking heels. She’d probably come from a date or a scheduled scene. Geralt knew she scheduled scenes with her regular partners most weekends that he took Ciri. 

“He wasn’t made to be kept at arm's length, Geralt.” She looked Geralt up and down before meeting his eyes in earnest. 

“And I’m not good at getting any closer than arm's length,” Geralt said, knowing that was what she was thinking. “You don’t think it’s fair of me.”

“Do you?” 

“No...but he didn’t listen when I tried to tell him that.”

Yennefer’s laugh was cutting as she leaned forward slightly. “I don’t know which one of you is more pathetic, him for being wholeheartedly determined to jump into every ill-fated relationship that comes his way or you for being incapable of brushing him aside despite all this,” she said, motioning to Geralt’s whole person.

Geralt grunted. He’d never had to brush Yennefer off. She’d been more than happy to remain at arm’s length when they were having sex. It was only after Ciri was born that either of them truly let the other in, and at that point they were hardly fucking. So, she’d never really experienced Geralt’s inability to have a conversation about boundaries. 

“Was there something you actually wanted to say, Yen?” Geralt asked, not up for being the source of her amusement for the evening. Generally, he didn’t mind it, but he was tired and aching from days of painting and moving furniture. Even though his shoulder had healed, it still ached with any substantial amount of physical activity. 

“Geralt.” She said it so affectionately that his walls just crumbled. She’d always had that effect on him when she wanted to, and it was more than a little unsettling.

“Yen.”

She gave him a small smile as she reached out and brushed a stubborn strand of hair out of his face. “Ciri wants you to be happy. Eskel won’t shut up about you being happy. Even Lambert has grumbled something about how you falling in love wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. _I_ just want you to _want_ to be happy. You’re allowed. I’ll even give you permission if that’ll help.”

“Never learned how to do that.” Geralt looked up at the stars as he said it, half expecting Yen to call bullshit.

“You taught yourself how to skateboard so you could teach Ciri when she proclaimed she was going to win the X-games. I think you can figure it out if you want to,” Yen retorted, pulling him toward her by his t-shirt. 

“Eskel put you up to this?” 

“Lambert actually. He very politely asked me to use my sorcery to make you see some sense.”

“Did you punch him?”

“You have plausible deniability if I don’t tell you,” she said, smirking.

“He deserved whatever he got.”

“He did, and I’m sure he’ll locate his testicles again someday.”

Geralt snorted. He knew Lambert and Yen enjoyed pressing each other's buttons as much as they enjoyed pressing other people’s. Underneath the barbs, they did actually like each other...most of the time. “You come from a date?” He changed the subject to something less likely to blow up in his face.

“Jealous?”

“Only of the fact you’ve probably eaten something that wasn’t from a subpar pizzeria in the past week.”

Yen laughed, giving him a light shove. “I did, in fact, eat a home cooked meal prepared by my darling sub. Roasted lamb with vegetables and a decadent dessert.”

“Mm, that sounds good. Pretty sure Jaskier could burn water.”

“What gives you that idea? I mean, you aren’t wrong.” Her laughter was gentle and carefree. It was nice.

“The man seems to live on Girl Scout cookies and granola bars.”

“I feed him at least twice a week, so not _only_ cookies and granola bars, but rather close. You’ll have to wear that apron in that relationship, I’m afraid.”

Geralt snorted. “So, you had a good Saturday?”

“Oh, I had a lovely one. I got to test out a new toy with splendid results, and then I got to send him home and relax.”

“I’m glad. I know I haven’t been pulling my weight.”

“Dont. You’re there when it counts, and you have two idiot brothers to be there when it doesn’t.”

Geralt chuckled. He wouldn’t call them both idiots, but then Yen would probably also lump him in with his idiot brothers, so it wasn’t really worth parsing.

“Have a lovely night, Geralt. I know I certainly will,” she said, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

“Good night, Yen.”

When Geralt came back into the house, he found Jaskier sitting with Ciri singing to her softly. It was a song he didn’t recognize, but his voice was soft and tender, and Ciri was watching him with an adoring glint in her eye. 

Jaskier’s song faded off as Geralt closed the door.

“Everything okay?” Geralt asked, walking over to them and taking a knee beside the bed, not wanting to get the fresh sheets dirty. He was covered in paint and dust from working on the house all day. 

“I woke up, and you weren’t here to read me a bedtime story,” Ciri said, reaching up to tug gently on the same strand of hair that Yennefer had tried to push out of the way.

“Sorry, I was talking to your mom,” Geralt said, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Do I have to go home with mom?”

“Only if you want to. She said you could stay if you’re settled in.”

“Okay. Is Roach here, or did you leave her at Uncle Eskel’s house?”

“She’s in my backpack. I’ll go get her for you while Jaskier sings you another song,” Geralt promised, patting her thin arm gently where it rested atop the blanket.

“It would be my honor to sing you another song,” Jaskier said as soon as Ciri’s eyes landed on him.

Geralt rose and walked down the hall toward his office while Jaskier began to sing an old folk song that he recognized but couldn’t recall the name. He found Roach easily, nestled in the backpack beside his laptop. The necessities.

When he returned, Ciri’s eyes were drooping, but she was still watching Jaskier sing and sway to his own song. She had a small smile on her lips and she barely moved when Geralt tucked Roach beneath her arm. She just snuggled the stuffed horse and let out a massive yawn before letting her eyes fall closed. 

Geralt tipped his head toward the kitchen after another song and once Ciri’s breathing had slowed. Jaskier rose and followed him into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table which was one of the first things that Geralt had purchased for the house.

“Can I get you a beer?” Geralt asked, opening the fridge which had little other than a massive case of beer.

“The beer to food ratio in there is leaning heavily toward frat house and far from respectable father,” Jaskier said, sounding very amused as Geralt removed two beers.

“Need something to pay my help with,” Geralt said, pulling the tab on the cheap beer and taking a long sip. 

“Isn’t Ciri a bit young to be pounding back a beer between DIY activities?” Jaskier’s smile was easy, like the last time they were in a room alone together hadn’t been in the direct aftermath of violence between them.

“Ciri gets paid in candy. The beer is for asshole brothers...and boyfriends,” Geralt said, frowning at the title. He wasn’t sure what Jaskier was, but he wasn’t one of his brothers, and he certainly wasn’t just an acquaintance. Friend didn’t seem fitting either.

“I feel that I should be insulted that my payment is the same as asshole brothers. As the boyfriend, I feel that I should demand a better payment.”

“I can take the beer back,” Geralt said, reaching for Jaskier’s can.

Jaskier snatched it out of his reach and slapped at his fingers. “None of that.”

Geralt smirked at him. “You don’t like people stealing your food or drinks. Huh, strange.”

“I don’t know what you are speaking about, but I can assure you that I am innocent of any wrongdoing you are trying to pin on my wholly innocent chest.”

“Right.”

They sipped their watery beer for a moment in companionable silence. It was nice just to sit with someone else when he’d spent so much time with his own thoughts or dissecting those thoughts with his doctor. 

“The house is really lovely,” Jaskier said after a while, looking around the kitchen like he was noticing it for the first time.

“Thanks.”

“Ciri’s tour was quite illuminating.”

Geralt snorted. “She was so entertained by the real estate agent. She was doing the impression for days. It probably made her day just to be able to test it out on someone new.” Geralt shook his head. Sometimes Ciri was wise and mature beyond her years, but other times she was one hundred percent a ten year old, and Geralt loved when he got to see it. 

“Perhaps a new career goal for her?”

“Think she’s still stuck on astronaut, but there’s a lot of real estate out there. Maybe she’ll sell someone the Mars’ crater,” Geralt said, taking another sip of his beer.

“If someone could do it, it would be Ciri.” Jaskier gave him an adoring smile before clearing his throat. “Do you mind if I ask you a completely tactless question?”

“Haven’t minded the other times you’ve done it.”

Jaskier gave him a light punch to the shoulder for that comment, but he was still smiling. “Geralt, are you secretly rich? While I’ve never seen it, you said you own a house in the woods, and now you’ve bought this house in the city...granted the outskirts of the city, but still the city...which puts my little house to shame…”

Geralt hummed. He never really talked about money other than with Eskel, but that was because they ran a business together and both of them handled the books. “I’m comfortable.”

“Which is code for rich as hell. You realize that, right? No one is comfortable these days. Not that I’m judging you...I just never really thought about it.”

“It’s not that I’m...rich. We all put our money together to start the business. We’re good, and we’re discreet. Work for high profile people who want to keep a low profile. There’s money in that.”

“So wealthy people pay you a lot of money to keep their indiscretions under wraps.”

“Or to protect them from those indiscretions.” Geralt shrugged.

“Right. But two houses well?”

“Eskel and I live on the same parcel of land just on opposite sides of the lake. My side’s more remote, but you can hike to it from his. It’s massive, but most of it can’t be built on so...it’s not a lot of cost between us. Lambert has a third of it technically, but he isn’t one to settle down. He prefers hopping from place to place in the city until that grows old.”

“Are you trying to tell me you aren’t rich? Because you are terrible at it if that’s the case,” Jaskier told him, finishing his beer and getting up to find the nonexistent trash can. “Not that I have a problem with it. I’ve always imagined the benefits of being a trophy husband. Fine clothes, fine wine, freedom to explore creative endeavors.”

Geralt smiled and shook his head. “Not really rich, just never spent anything we earned. We all grew up with a lot of financial uncertainty...just uncertainty in general. So, we hoard our earnings. Store it away for when things go to shit. Last time I really touched it was Eskel’s medical expenses.”

“That explains the shitty truck in the driveway,” Jaskier said, returning with a new beer for himself and for Geralt as well as the empty can which he rested on the table between them. “You are an enigma, Geralt.”

“Mm. Yen says I’m a bore.” 

“Something tells me that you have earned any boredom you seek.”

“I suppose. Sorry that Ciri sprang today on you. I didn’t realize she was going to invite you. I know you had the munch today.”

“None of that. I was delighted by the invitation. I will admit that I may have had ulterior motives for coming, but who can blame me when our time together has been so limited?” Jaskier’s smile was comfortable, and there wasn’t a hint of judgment or derision in his expression. “Which reminds me, I have a housewarming gift for you in my car. Actually, I have two, but my hands were full of lunch when I arrived, so I forgot to bring them in. Let me go get them.” Jaskier didn’t give Geralt a chance to respond before he was hurrying out of the room.

Geralt sighed, taking a sip of his beer while he waited. He tried not to think about Jaskier’s question and whether his ability to afford the house was going to be a problem for Jaskier. However, before he could venture down that rabbit hole, Jaskier was hurrying back into the room with a rather large box and a smaller gift bag.

“Open the box first if you please,” Jaskier said, setting it down in front of Geralt as Geralt lifted his beer out of the way.

Geralt raised an eyebrow at the obnoxiously colorful wrapping paper, but he kept his comments to himself as he carefully slid his finger beneath one of the folds and pulled it free of the tape holding it in place.

Jaskier watched him with a very serious expression. The box itself looked like it had been used before, so he assumed that Jaskier hadn’t actually bought him a set of ugly dishes. Geralt was relieved that he didn’t have to fake appreciation when he opened the box to find no dishes at all.

At this point, Jaskier was bouncing just a little, unable to contain his own excitement as Geral removed several picture frames from the box.

“I know you probably have the basics covered like ladles and salt and pepper shakers, but people always forget the little things. I didn’t hang pictures for almost a year when I bought my place...and Ciri’s at that age where suddenly she won’t be a little girl who drags a stuffed horse around anymore...so I thought, you might want to keep these moments…”

“Thank you. It’s a good gift,” Geralt said, looking at a frame that could hold several pictures. 

Jaskier had already filled a couple of the slots with pictures of Ciri. There was one of her and Yennefer at the bar, decorating it for some event. It was candid, and neither were looking at the camera, but they looked so happy as Ciri stood on the bar trying to hang a banner while Yen held her steady. The other was a picture of Ciri conked out in Geralt’s arms as they headed down the mountain on the hike they took with Jaskier. He hadn’t realized Jaskier had taken the picture. Ciri had her head tucked into the crook of Geralt’s neck, and he was resting his chin on her hair as he looked at something in the distance. 

“Thank you,” he said again, placing the frames out on the table. They were an assortment of sizes, but they were all in the same finish, so they’d go together.

“I’m glad you don’t hate them.”

“No, it’s nice. You’re right. I _would_ forget decorations.” The cabin only had the decorations that Yen brought on her rare visits, like the pillows on the couch or the paintings on the walls.

Jaskier’s face lit up at that, and he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Geralt’s cheek. “I guess it’s good that you have me to think of these things then.”

“Mm...among other things,” Geralt agreed, lifting up the gift bag.

Jaskier bit his lip as Geralt pulled the tissue paper out of the bag and tossed it on the table. He seemed nervous as Geralt lifted the gift out of the bag.

“Are these satin?” Geralt asked, looking at the scrap of fabric that was definitely trying to masquerade as underwear.

“You can’t tell a man that you aren’t opposed to panties and that you can wear satin, and not expect him to go out and get you a pair...or three,” Jaskier said, continuing to worry his bottom lip.

Geralt shook his head, barely containing a smile as he held the bright red panties out with both hands, studying the cut of them which was a bit like a pair of tiny shorts with a pocket for his cock. He laid that pair down on Jaskier’s thigh and picked up a second pair which were black and in more of a bikini style, though they lacked enough fabric to cover his entire ass. He assumed that was purposeful. Those too were placed on Jaskier’s leg, and he lifted the last pair which were a rich green color. Like the black pair, these were more like a bikini and decadently soft.

“This pair actually comes with a garter belt, but I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that. It’s in the bottom of the bag, but don’t feel like you—”

“We can see how it goes,” Geralt told him, reaching into the bag to remove the belt in question. It was more like a skirt, but it looked like it would hug his hips and torso snugly. 

“It’s high waisted. I thought it would look nice with the way your waist tapers in. You don’t have to wear it. Just got carried away.”

“I like it, Jaskier. Not used to having someone…”

“Buy you lingerie? Yeah, that’s not terribly surprising.”

“Not just lingerie. Just not used to having someone in general,” Geralt admitted. 

“Oh.” Jaskier got that awfully soft expression on his face that he sometimes wore when he was just looking at Geralt with Ciri, and then he was dropping the panties into the bag and settling himself in Geralt's lap.

Geralt took the sudden weight easily, and brought his hands up to Jaskier’s hips to steady him before cradling his lower back with one hand.

Jaskier leaned in and kissed Geralt softly, coaxing him to let him in. Geralt gave in easily, and let Jaskier deepen the kiss with teasing brushes of his tongue. It was just as heady as the kisses they’d shared in Jaskier’s car, and Geralt heard himself moan softly as Jaskier nipped his bottom lip.

They kissed for a while, Jaskier’s fingers finding their way into Geralt’s hair and stroking it gently. Geralt’s hands trailed up and down Jaskier’s back, keeping him steady even when he shifted in Geralt’s lap.

Eventually, Jaskier pulled back to rest his forehead against Geralt’s as he caught his breath. Geralt just breathed for a moment, taking in the subtle scent on Jaskier. He noticed that he didn’t wear as strong a cologne as when they first met, or perhaps just less of it. It was subtler now, and Geralt found it soothing rather than cloying like he found many perfumes and colognes.

Pulling back further, Geralt looked up into Jaskier’s eyes. He looked tired but content as he brushed the hair out of Geralt’s face. 

“Missed this,” Jaskier said, leaning in to rest his head on Geralt’s shoulder.

Geralt tensed for a moment as a memory of the night he’d bitten Jaskier flashed through his mind, but he pushed it down. Jaskier wouldn’t hurt him even as retaliation. Even if he deserved it.

“I...you’re here,” Geralt finally said after a few minutes of holding Jaskier against him and stroking his spine.

“I am.” It was spoken softly almost like Jaskier was floating in a sort of dream.

“You...wanted to do it in person,” Geralt said, stumbling over the proper words. Having Jaskier in front of him, casually sitting in his lap like he belonged there. It made him want to talk. He didn’t know if he would be successful, but he wanted it. Maybe this was what Yen had been referring to. The desire for something more than he’d ever allowed himself.

Jaskier waggled his eyebrows suggestively, but quickly sobered. “Are you certain? I don’t want to push you, and Ciri is right there,” Jaskier waved his hand over his shoulder at the living room beyond.

“Ciri sleeps like the dead, or she will for at least an hour or two. She’s called a couple times recently after nightmares to hear my voice, so she might have one, but they usually don’t start right away,” Geralt said, finishing his beer and placing it on the table away from his gifts.

“Right. If you’re certain. Don’t feel like you have to or that you can’t stop at any time—”

“I’ll be fine, Jaskier,” Geralt told him even though he wasn’t sure that was the truth. However, he knew that if he didn’t at least try, he was never going to find his way out of this self-imposed exile. 

“Okay. I am all ears then,” Jaskier said, straightening up and giving Geralt his full attention. 

Geralt settled back in as he popped the tab on the beer Jaskier had gotten him earlier and took a long drink. He didn’t even know where to start, so he just went with what was easiest.

“I used to love impact play when I was younger. When I was first experimenting, I could be spanked or caned or paddled for hours. I preferred it to be something to focus on at predictable intervals. I still enjoy it, but I...need a lot with it. It needs to be steady and dependable. If a partner has a good rhythm that’s fine or counting. If it’s unpredictable, I can’t...it’s not safe...I—”

“You don’t need to explain yourself, Geralt. If we ever do it, then we can determine how to go about it. If you need me to tell you when I’m going to spank or paddle you, then I would be happy to. What’s important is that it’s something you enjoy under the right circumstances,” Jaskier said, giving him a reassuring smile as his hand crept down Geralt’s arm to find his own.

Geralt rolled his eyes at the far from subtle gesture, but he laced their fingers just the same. “Blowjobs, hand jobs, anal...I’m fine with all of it, either giving or receiving. Don’t mind rimming...but it can be overwhelming if my partner…”

“Oh trust me, Geralt. I completely understand that one without elaboration. I do try to make it a habit of bathing prior to scenes if that is any reassurance.”

“Hmm.” Geralt looked up at the ceiling then down at Jaskier who continued to watch him with a steady composure. The man was solid, immovable. It was comforting. “I enjoyed the way you talked to me.”

“Funny, that’s usually the thing that turns people off.” Jaskier’s tone was sharper than he likely meant it to be, and Geralt squeezed his hand reassuringly. 

“It’s dependable and soothing.”

Jaskier got a look in his eye that Geralt couldn’t really read, but he knew it had a meaning, something important. 

“I’ve been with a lot of partners, but never one quite like you. I didn’t think I’d like it, but I figured I’d try it…”

“And?” Jaskier sounded hopeful this time.

“And I think that you do things that I’m not always willing to admit I need without needing guidance.”

“That is probably the nicest compliment I have ever received,” Jaskier said, pressing a kiss to Geralt’s cheek.

“Mm.”

“Anything else, or are you tapped out for this evening?” Jaskier asked softly as he continued to nuzzle Geralt’s cheek and neck.

Geralt thought about the things he’d enjoyed over the years and the things that really made him fall apart. “I already told you about desperation play.”

“Oh yes, you certainly did, and if I am being completely honest, I have touched myself to thoughts of you desperate more than once.” Jaskier pulled back enough to look at him bashfully.

Geralt smiled. “I wouldn’t mind being desperate for you, I think.”

“Darling, I am already hopelessly desperate for you, just so you know.”

Geralt laughed softly, giving Jaskier’s hand a squeeze. He wasn’t used to partners telling him how much they wanted him in any capacity beyond a scene. He’d made sure to keep it that way, but Jaskier was different. Every time he admitted how much he enjoyed Geralt and his company it warmed something in him that he’d long assumed had withered and died.

“Enjoy bondage, but the materials need to be right.”

“Of course. I know we’ve used my restraints before, but if you need a different kind, we can certainly get those.”

Geralt wasn’t used to sharing his needs, and he certainly wasn’t used to them being met not only favorably but with real consideration. It was a little overwhelming, but Jaskier’s weight in his lap was grounding, and Geralt realized why the man thought it was a conversation best had in person.

When Geralt slipped into contemplative silence, Jaskier began to hum softly. It was a familiar melody from their scene together, and Geralt felt some of the tension inside of him slowly unfurl.

“Do you have any idea what that melody does to me?” Geralt asked, running his hand up to the nape of Jaskier’s neck and burying his fingers in his hair.

“I can feel what it is doing to you,” Jaskier retorted, snuggling into Geralt’s lap. 

The man was shamelessly cuddly, and Geralt reminded himself that there were no rules against that. Perhaps he hadn’t experienced partners who sought physical affection from him, but that didn’t make it wrong for Jaskier to want that.

“I can’t handle yelling in a scene or overly aggressive behavior. I’ve had Doms come at me and grip me by the hair…” Geralt clenched the fist holding Jaskier’s hair accidentally, but immediately released it when He heard Jaskier hiss. “I’m sorry.” He tried to help Jaskier off his lap, but Jaskier held him tightly.

“ _Geralt_.” Jaskier’s voice was soft, holding no pain or judgment. “You didn’t hurt me, just surprised me. I promise I won’t ever be outright aggressive with you. Like our first scene, if you physically test me, I will react accordingly, but it will never be unprovoked or unreasonable.”

“I know I can be physically intimidating—”

“Geralt, we are performing a mutually agreed upon scene. I’m not wrangling a wild animal. You’ll push and test my patience. That’s part of the dance. I’ll hold steady and bring you back to composure. This isn’t a wrestling match. We aren’t trying to pin the other or have them tap out. We are doing something together with the mutual goal of bringing each other pleasure. I do not put up with bad behavior from my subs whether it is aggression or anything I deem dangerous, and I hope that you won’t either.” Jaskier looked him in the eyes and waited.

Geralt took a breath then let it out slowly as he nodded.

“I think I would like a verbal response to that,” Jaskier added, cupping Geralt’s jaw gently.

“I understand.”

“And you will hold me accountable if I do something you are uncomfortable with?”

Geralt didn’t answer right away. He was so used to singular scenes where it was simply a matter of getting through the bad ones and never contacting the partner again, or savoring the good ones while they lasted. Actually facing the reality of needing to have open communication and holding his partners and himself accountable for their scenes as well as their relationship as a whole was a lot.

“Fuck.”

“Right, well that is certainly _a_ response. What are you thinking that has you looking like Ciri just settled on the rainbow color scheme for the entire house?” Jaskier asked, tucking Geralt’s hair behind his ear again.

“Answering Ciri’s questions about where babies come from and why men have nipples if they are useless are easier than this,” Geralt told him, closing his eyes.

Jaskier laughed softly, patting Geralt’s chest affectionately. “Okay, well you’ve had ten years to ease into fatherhood’s peculiarities. If what you’ve told me so far is any indication, you haven’t been in too many long-term partnerships that weren’t business related. Cintra wasn’t built in a day, so let’s see about easing into this. I think—and stop me at any time if you are uncomfortable with the idea—we should use the video or phone calls as a way of exploring what we want. Like phone sex, we can explore scene ideas. This way we can work out things we might want to try, but we can also practice stopping each other if we don’t like an idea. You can continue working on your concerns for physical contact with your therapist, and we can work on scene concerns between us for when you’re ready for a physical scene. What do you think?” Jaskier smiled at him, rocking gently in his lap, clearly aware that Geralt was physically responding to his continued presence in his lap.

“We can try it. I’m not…”

“Geralt, I refuse to believe you’ve never had a fantasy in your life. I think that you’ll find the words, but as you probably know, I would be more than happy to go first if that would make you feel more comfortable.” Jaskier’s grin was dazzling.

“Mm.”

“Right now, I think you should kiss me again.”

Geralt tipped his head back and stretched to kiss Jaskier, settling his hands on Jaskier’s hips again when he began to rock them in earnest. He pressed his tongue to the seam of Jaskier’s lips and growled as Jaskier sucked on the tip of his tongue, turning the tides on him. 

Jaskier deepened the kiss even as he ground down harder into Geralt’s lap. Geralt growled into Jaskier’s mouth, wrapping his hands around Jaskier’s hips and holding him steady even as Jaskier continued to dictate the pace of things.

Geralt pulled away enough to kiss a path down Jaskier’s throat, and Jaskier panted against his ear. They were both lost in each other as they continued to roll their hips against each other. 

“Dad?”

Geralt tore his mouth away from Jaskier as Jaskier scrambled off his lap. By the time he looked to the doorway, Ciri’s little body was barreling across the room. A couple moments later a hand that wasn’t Jaskier’s touched Geralt’s arm, and Ciri looked at him with a trembling lower lip.

“Fuck, you have a nightmare?” he asked, ignoring that fact that she’d caught them in an awkward situation.

Ciri nodded.

“Shit. Did you call for me?” he asked as Jaskier took a large gulp of beer to steady himself. Geralt wasn’t terribly concerned about his own erection because it had withered faster than the house plant he’d bought when he first moved into the cabin. The sound of Ciri’s distress was far more effective than a bucket of cold water. He reached out and pulled her into his arms.

“No, I saw the light in the kitchen,” Ciri mumbled into his neck. 

Geralt could feel her tears on his skin and he cradled her to his chest as Jaskier watched them, biting his lip with worry.

“I’m sorry,” Ciri said, clinging to him.

“Never be sorry for needing me,” Geralt said, rising and lifting her into his arms. He carried her to the sink and filled a glass of water for her then just held her as she drank it slowly. “Same dream?” he asked once she’d settled a bit.

Ciri nodded, resting her head on his shoulder as Geralt dropped the plastic cup into the sink. He pressed a kiss to her head and carried her into the living room again. 

“I’m right here, Ciri. Not going anywhere,” he promised, settling down on the mattress and letting her settle on his chest. He ignored the fact that he wasn’t clean. The sheets would survive, and if they didn’t he’d get some more. 

Jaskier stood in the doorway to the kitchen watching them as Ciri slowly relaxed.

“Sorry I bothered you and Jaskier,” Ciri said in a sleepy voice once she’d settled.

“Don’t worry about it, Kiddo.”

“Is that...fun? Seems gross, so much spit.”

Geralt smiled, running his fingers through her hair. “Yeah, it’s fun if you like the person.”

“I kissed Dara once but it was weird.”

Geralt outright laughed at that. “Maybe wait a few years, Cub.”

“Morgan was better at it. She tasted like candy.”

“Fuck.” Geralt had tears in his eyes as he tried to withhold his laughter. Jaskier was doing a piss poor job as he used the doorway to hold himself up as he cackled.

“What?”

“Don’t kiss anyone you don’t want to, Cub.”

“What if I want to?”

“Make sure they want it too.”

“And then?”

“Wait like five years. You’re ten. You’ve got a lifetime of kissing ahead of you.”

Ciri blew a raspberry and jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. “Did you tell Jaskier when you found out you loved him?” She didn’t play fair at all, but he wouldn’t have her any other way.

“I did.”

“ _And_?”

“And I thought it was very romantic, Ciri,” Jaskier cut in, coming to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“Grown ups are weird.”

“That they are,” Geralt said, rubbing her back gently.

“Are you mad that I kissed Dara and Morgan?” Ciri asked, peeking up at him.

“You mad I was kissing Jaskier?”

Ciri shook her head, and burrowed against his chest.

“I’ll never be mad if you’re happy, Cub. Just don’t murder anyone. Uncle Eskel has a bad back, and Uncle Lambert will bitch forever if he has to dig a grave.”

Ciri giggled. “Jimmy made fun of me for kissing Dara on the playground.”

“Yeah, well, Jimmy sounds like an all around dick, Kiddo. Some people are, and it’s really not worth your energy to try to defend what makes you happy. Especially not when your mom made his dad shit himself when she confronted him about it.”

“Mom makes everyone shit themselves.”

“Yeah, because she loves you and won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“Did mom make the person who hurt you shit themselves?” Ciri asked looking up at him with wide innocent eyes.

“No, but she could’ve if she wanted to. They would’ve been no match for her.”

Ciri gave him a serious nod. 

“Feeling like you might fall back to sleep?” Geralt asked.

“I don’t know…”

“How about I see Jaskier to his car, then we can watch a movie on my laptop since we don’t have a TV yet?”

“Jaskier isn’t staying?”

“Not tonight, sweetheart,” Jaskier said, giving her ankle a small shake. 

“Good night, Jaskier.” Ciri pushed off of Geralt’s chest to give Jaskier a hug before accepting Roach from Geralt and settling back into her pillow.

“I’ll be two minutes. Right outside if you need me,” Geralt said, getting up from the mattress and helping Jaskier to his feet as well.

Geralt led Jaskier to the door, still holding his hand. “You have your keys and wallet?”

Jaskier nodded and they went outside, leaving the door open, so Geralt could hear Ciri if she called for him. He walked up the driveway for the second time that night and settled against Jaskier’s car.

“Haven’t been cock blocked by a child before,” Jaskier said, blowing out a heavy breath.

Geralt chuckled. “Can’t say I have either.”

“I’m sorry she had to see—”

“She’s seen people kiss before, Jaskier. Kids accidentally walk in on their parents all the time. Seeing us kiss isn’t going to scar her for life.”

“I suppose when you put it that way,” Jaskier said, running his fingers through his hair. “Well, I am sorry if I overstayed my welcome.”

“You didn’t. I just...have to be a parent right now.”

“Of course! I don’t want to get in your way. I’ll just get out of your hair…”

Geralt tugged Jaskier forward until he was standing between Geralt’s legs. “I’m not kicking you out because of what happened. I just can’t do more than one thing right now. I’m exhausted and barely stable, and she needs me to let her know everything’s okay.”

Jaskier gave him a subtle smile and leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”

“Mm.”

“You’re a good father, Geralt. A good man.”

Geralt grumbled, but Jaskier just gave him another soft kiss.

“I meant to tell you something before. Um...I have a gig on Tuesday. Small bar. I know you aren’t huge on bars, but I thought since we didn’t have our munch today...though today was lovely, we could...or you might be interested in seeing me play?”

Geralt had lost some of that in Jaskier’s rambles, but he caught the actual invitation buried in there. “Text me the details. I’ll swing by after my appointment.”

“Really?” Jaskier seemed truly shocked by his acceptance, and Geralt frowned.

“Really.”

“Wonderful.” Jaskier wrapped him in a tight hug for a long time before pressing another kiss to his lips. They just stood there holding each other.

Eventually, Jaskier got into his car and pulled away. Geralt waited until his tail lights were out of sight before walking back into the house. Ciri was sitting on the bed waiting for him with his laptop already there with her. 

“What do you and Roach want to watch?” he asked, letting himself fall onto the mattress beside her.


	15. A Pack of Wolves

Jaskier looked around the bar as he tuned his guitar, waiting for the music to cut out to signify the start of his set. He looked up at the warm lights above the small stage, then down at himself. He’d worn a brand new teal jacquard waistcoat with a floral design he’d thought was charming. It brought out the color of his eyes nicely. Perhaps it was a little much, but it was certainly eye catching.

However, he didn’t see Geralt in the crowd in order to catch his eye, and he was honest enough to admit to himself that he was disappointed by that. He understood that Geralt had a lot going on, but he’d hoped that Geralt would’ve come to see him play.

His friend, Shani, was sitting at a high top table near the bar, and she gave him a small wave when their eyes met. She was a doctor, but they’d met because she taught the med students at the university. They’d met at a fundraiser for the arts school, and they’d been fairly close ever since.

Shani gave him a little thumbs up as the music cut out at the end of a song. Jaskier gave his guitar a small experimental strum then stepped up to the microphone.

“Good evening ladies and gents. As some of you degenerates might know, I’m Jaskier, and I’m here to make love to your ears while you do damage to your livers.” Jaskier strummed his guitar again and immediately went into his first song.

Jaskier loved music, and he really enjoyed performing. So, it wasn’t hard to push his disappointment aside for a while as he got into his performance. He could be upset later when he was home alone with a stiff drink. Then he could text Geralt and call him an ass, or text Yennefer and call Geralt an ass. Both would be satisfying in their own right.

However, he wasn’t even finished with his first song when the door near the stage opened and in walked Eskel. At least, Jaskier thought it was Geralt’s brother. He didn’t know too many people with such a distinct marking on their face. His suspicions were confirmed when Geralt walked in behind him.

Jaskier almost fucked up the final chorus as he saw Geralt step into the bar. Their eyes met as Geralt quickly located the stage, and Geralt gave him a soft smile and a tilt of his head. Jaskier managed to finish the song as Geralt and Eskel made their way to the bar.

Jaskier had sweat dripping down his temples by the time he was finishing his set, and he’d unbuttoned the top three buttons on his shirt leaving more than a little chest hair on display. He wiped his brow as he strummed the first chords of the final song in the set.

Looking to the back of the bar, Jaskier’s eyes met Geralt’s as he started to sing one of his crowd favorites. Geralt smiled at him even as he was clearly giving Eskel his ear. Jaskier tore his eyes away and scanned the crowd as he dove into the song, getting more than a few regulars to sing along. It was satisfying, and by the time he played the final chord, he felt truly alive.

Jaskier stepped down from the stage and went to Shani’s table where he’d been hanging out earlier. Several of Shani’s friends had joined her, so she wasn’t terribly heartbroken when he told her that his boyfriend had arrived and was sitting in the back. 

“Have fun...but not too much fun. I remember when you and Anya got kicked out for having sex in the bathroom before your second set.”

“That was one time,” Jaskier said.

“One time at three difference bars. You are banned from more bars than I can count on one hand,” Shani teased, punching him in the shoulder.

“I don’t think Geralt is a public bathroom sex kind of boyfriend, but if he is, he’s definitely more discreet than Anya.”

Shani rolled her eyes. “Have fun, Jaskier.”

Jaskier bit his lip as he made his way to the corner where Geralt and Eskel had found a booth. They were seated side by side, and Eskel had an arm casually thrown over Geralt’s shoulder as he clearly regaled him of some tale or another.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Jaskier said, sliding into the opposite side of the booth.

Eskel looked up from where he was looking at Geralt, and gave Jaskier an easy smile.

“Geralt didn’t tell me you could sing,” Eskel said, shaking Geralt with the arm wrapped around him like Geralt was a rag doll. 

“Never came up,” Geralt grumbled, but he didn’t shove Eskel away or look particularly annoyed by the treatment.

Jaskier looked from one to the other and tried to figure out their dynamic. They were both big, but Eskel—without actually being much larger—seemed to dwarf Geralt in size. It probably had something to do with his personality.

“Is that your way of saying you enjoyed my performance even if you were late?” Jaskier asked, unable to help slipping in a comment about their tardiness. He was still a professor on his days off; it was spliced into his genetic makeup to notice such things.

“That’s this one’s fault,” Eskel said, lifting Geralt’s arm by the forearm and making him wave to Jaskier like a puppet. It was unexpected and more than a little endearing to watch ever-stoic Geralt treated with the affectionate disrespect of a younger sibling.

This time Geralt elbowed him in the ribs for his trouble, but he still didn’t tell him to fuck off. He was watching Jaskier, giving him his attention, but he had yet to speak to him, seemingly happy to let Eskel do it.

“So, the thing is. Your boyfriend is a bit of an idiot,” Eskel said, giving Geralt another small squeeze.

“Is that so?” Jaskier rested one forearm on the sticky table and propped his chin on the other hand, giving Geralt a besotted look before giving Eskel his attention again.

“It is. Last Tuesday of the month is brother night. Has been since we were kids,” Eskel said, and Geralt rolled his eyes. Other than for military service, we have not missed a brothers night for anything. Even when one of us was sick or dating or being a moody asshole. We always drag each other out. So, when Geralt tried to get out of it, we doubled down. Lambert should be here as soon as he finishes the pile of work we left him.” Eskel was giving him a smile that was slightly sinister, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes were warm and welcoming.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said, but it was more of a sigh. He’d clearly argued this with either Eskel, Lambert, or both of them. He’d also very clearly lost.

Jaskier gave him another soft smile. He hadn’t realized just how close Geralt was with his brothers. Sure, they worked together, but there were plenty of families that worked together who could not stand each other. Then there was the fact that he helped Lambert move, and Lambert had come to pick him up without a moment’s hesitation at five in the morning or so. He’d also mentioned living with Eskel, and for a man that didn’t talk in volumes he did mention both his brothers fairly often. Perhaps Jaskier should have realized before this moment how close they were.

“Well, the more people who show up for my gigs, the more likely I am to get hired again, so for completely selfish reasons, I cannot say that I mind. And we did say this would be our munch for the week, so what’s another friend or two?” Jaskier gave them both smiles.

“Oh, great. Make sure you say that in front of Lambert and give it some weight, so he thinks he’s a part of something kinky,” Eskel said, eyes alight with glee.

“You’re such an asshole,” Geralt grumbled, giving him an elbow to the ribs. Jaskier was starting to hope that Eskel had worn padding, otherwise those ribs were going to start hurting from Geralt’s pointy elbows.

“It’s not my fault he’s _Lambert_.” Eskel said it like it was some incurable disease.

“Mm, don’t forget to mention your three day sex marathon with the woman you met at that truck stop,” Geralt said. Lambert will love that one too.”

“Ah, the succubus. She was... _lovely_.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “I wonder what she calls you…”

“The one that got away most likely.”

Geralt gave him a shove. “Just barely from what I recall. You called me in the truck to ask if your cock could fall off from too much sex and drugs because the internet wasn’t being helpful enough.”

Jaskier laughed at that. He couldn’t help the wide grin on his face as he looked between the two of them. 

“It was an honest concern. There had been _a lot_ of sex.”

“But was it good sex?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt chuckled as Eskel gave him the very look Caesar must have given Brutus when he stabbed him. 

“I only have good sex.”

“Except for the time you got the clap…” Geralt was laughing, the most mirthful chuckle making his shoulders shake.

“The sex was still good, but the consequences hadn’t been delightful,” Eskel said, crossing his arms. “And don’t pretend like I haven’t driven your dumb ass to the clinic because of stupid sex decisions.”

“Oh, you two are a delight,” Jaskier laughed, tapping on the table as he watched them elbow each other where they continued to sit practically intertwined.

“See? He likes me,” Eskel said smugly.

“I didn’t say he had good taste, just that we were dating.”

Eskel snorted, giving Geralt a shove before sliding out of the booth. “Getting another beer, want one?” Eskel asked, looking at Jaskier.

“Oh, um, yes please,” Jaskier said, looking down at his nearly empty glass. He was going to need something if he was officially meeting both of Geralt’s brothers. 

“Wise choice. I’d switch sides before Lambert gets here.” With that, Eskel headed off toward the bar.

“Does Lambert smell or something?” Jaskier asked when Eskel walked away.

Geralt gave him a smile and motioned for Jaskier to join him on his side of the booth.

“Okay, if you insist,” Jaskier said, pushing his beer across the table before sliding to the edge of the seat. However before he could actually switch sides, Lambert walked up and slid right into the booth beside Geralt. 

Jaskier’s mouth opened to say something, but before he could Lambert picked up his beer and drank the rest of it. Jaskier blinked at him, mouth falling open in outrage. Playing gigs did not pay the bills, but it certainly got him some free alcohol which Geralt's brother was very rudely stealing.

“What the fuck is this piss? Is this light beer? Did Eskel hit his head?” Lambert asked, making comically disgusted faces at Jaskier’s beer which he’d mistaken for his brother’s.

“Move.” Geralt gave him a shove, but Lambert didn’t budge.

“Fuck off.” Lambert shoved him back. 

Jaskier sighed, sliding back into the booth to be across from Geralt.

“You’re in his seat,” Geralt said.

“He’s sitting there. It’s not like you can shove your hand in his pants in a bar. Not while you’re sitting with us at least.”

“It’s fine,” Jaskier said, bumping Geralt’s ankle with the toe of his boot beneath the table.

“See? He doesn’t care.”

Geralt rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

“Are you being an asshole?” Eskel asked as soon as he returned from the bar with three beers in his big hands. 

Jaskier usually worried when people tried to do the triangle to transport their beers, but with Eskel’s hands it wasn’t exactly the precarious act that it was when Jaskier’s friends attempted it.

“How am I an asshole for sitting in the seat available?” Lambert asked, sounding spectacularly affronted.

“I did warn you,” Eskel said, pushing a lighter beer in Jaskier’s direction and one of the darker ones toward Geralt.

“This is true,” Jaskier agreed, giving Eskel a hesitant smile as the larger man slid in beside him. 

“Did Geralt tell you we’re part of his _munch_?” Eskel asked, turning his attention to their younger brother.

Lambert’s eyebrows shot up. “Your what? Is that some freaky sex shit, Geralt? What the fuck did I tell you about keeping that shit to yourself?” Lambert asked, scooting away from Geralt like he might have something contagious.

“Mm, very freaky,” Geralt said in a low grumble, taking a sip of his beer.

“Fuck right off, we’re in public,” Lambert said, giving Geralt a hard shove. 

“That’s the point.” Geralt kept his tone so perfectly level that even Jaskier was a little convinced, and he certainly knew what a munch was.

“This isn’t like that time I stole the key to your trunk and went through your weird sex toys,” Lambert hissed. “There are other people here.”

“All the better, really,” Jaskier piped up. 

Eskel gave him a very covert bump beneath the table for playing along.

“Eskel, seriously. Tell them to stop whatever the hell they are doing,” Lambert looked under the table like he was expecting them not to be wearing pants or be rubbing each other off with their feet. 

“Can’t stop them,” Eskel said with a shrug. “No one can stop the munch.”

Jaskier lost it. Eskel said it with such gravitas, and he just couldn’t hold it in anymore. There were tears as he folded over.

Eskel patted him on the back forcefully as Lambert cursed.

“Fuck all of you. I knew you were fuckin’ with me.”

Geralt snorted. “Says the man gripping his seat like he did the first time we took him on a roller coaster.”

Lambert punched Geralt in the shoulder, and Jaskier could tell it wasn’t a light tap, but Geralt didn’t even wince. In fact, he looked genuinely happy. Lambert looked happy as well.

“Fine, what the fuck is a munch, assholes? And why am I involved in it?”

Jaskier was still laughing, but desperately trying to get a hold of himself. 

“Because you told me I couldn’t get out of brother night under any circumstances up to and including death, so here we are.”

“But what _is_ this?” he asked looking at them and the table like it was something other than four men having a beer.

Jaskier took pity on him, though he could tell that neither Eskel nor Geralt had any mind to do the same.

“A munch is a planned social or recreational gathering or activity outside of a scene. I’m sure the internet could give you a better definition, but it’s just a time to hangout with or get to know people with similar interests.”

“We _don’t_ have similar interests,” Lambert said, emphasizing his words.

Geralt punched him in the arm much as Lambert had done to him. “You can leave if you want.”

“Jaskier sings. He was just performing,” Eskel cut in, displaying a level of maturity that neither Geralt nor Lambert seemed inclined to show, but perhaps that was because Eskel was on the opposite side of the table from them. 

“So, he has an acoustic guitar to match the hipster clothing?” Lambert asked, and then jerked and cursed.

Perhaps Eskel wasn’t the model of maturity because Jaskier was pretty sure he’d just kicked Lambert in the shin.

“He’s good, and you promised to be nice.”

Lambert grumbled something about not being given a choice, but he looked at Jaskier and gave him a forced smile. “Why are you still putting up with this lug?” he asked, pointing at Geralt.

“Well, he’s charming and a wonderful father. He is thoughtful and quite funny if you give him a chance. He lets me eat off his plate…”

“Forget I asked.”

Geralt gave Jaskier a soft smile as his foot nudged him under the table.

“Shit, look at that smile,” Eskel teased, pointing at Geralt’s face.

“Careful, it might get stuck that way,” Lambert tagged on.

Jaskier returned the smile, ignoring their companions. Lambert and Eskel easily slipped into another conversation, this time about work which was to blame for Lambert’s tardiness.

However, the conversation did not remain on work for long as another round was ordered. They were back to ribbing each other in no time.

“Remember that time Lambert brought a girl home when he was like twelve?” Eskel asked, tipping his half empty beer in Geralt’s direction.

“And he made her hide in the closet under the stairs because he didn’t want us to see her when we got home from work?”

“And then he forgot her there!” Eskel added, laughing loudly.

Jaskier’s eyes went wide even as Lambert went completely red.

“Was she okay?”

Both Eskel and Geralt snorted even as Lambert groaned.

“She was fine. He left her in there with a box of cookies and like his Gameboy.”

“It didn’t lock. She could’ve gotten out at any time,” Geralt added.

“But she had to have been about as dumb as Lambert, here, because she stayed in there for like three hours, eating all of the cookies. We were in the middle of dinner when she came out and asked to use the bathroom. We thought she’d just wandered into the house from one of the trails needing to take a leak.”

“Lambert did not correct us either. Ended up feeding her because we thought she was lost.”

“Then her father showed up and wanted to castrate Lambert.”

“Should’ve let him,” Geralt grumbled, nudging Lambert with his elbow.

“Fuck you. We weren’t even doing anything. We watched movies, but I didn’t want you assholes teasing me.”

“How’d that work out for you?” Eskel asked.

“How much younger are you?” Jaskier asked.

“Six years,” Eskel told him.

“And you’re the oldest?”

“Technically, but Geralt’s only younger by a month. He was a year behind me in school though.”

Jaskier smiled. Geralt was quiet for the most part, though he added to their stories openly. It was a comfortable quietness, and he looked loose and calm sitting beside Lambert. He’d even reached his hand across the table to hold Jaskier’s. His thumb rubbed the back of Jaskier’s hand absently. It was nice.

“Were you held back or just missed the cut off?”

Geralt was quiet for a moment, and neither of his brothers jumped in to answer for him. 

“I was going through a lot when I should’ve started school. I…”

Jaskier could sense this was a delicate topic just by the way Eskel and even Lambert had quieted and given Geralt their full attention. 

“Fuck it. That was the summer Vesemir took me in. My mother abandoned me in the fucking woods. Vesemir says he was known for taking kids in, so she probably left me on the property to be found, but who the fuck knows? Doubt she cared much either way since she told me to go hunt down a Jack in the Pulpit and when I came back with it, she was gone.”

“Fuck,” Lambert sighed. 

Jaskier wasn’t sure if Lambert had never heard the story, never heard Geralt tell it, or if it just never got easier to hear. Jaskier was feeling much the same though. 

“Vesemir found me. I don’t know how much later. I don’t remember a lot of it, but I was fucked up enough that everyone from Vesemir and the caseworker to the school agreed that keeping me home an extra year would be for the best.” Geralt’s voice was flat as he shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. He hadn’t stopped stroking Jaskier’s hand as he said it.

“That’s—”

“Well, now that we’re thoroughly depressed, time for shots!” Lambert said, rising from the table like he’d caught fire.

“Try not to drink them all before you get back to the table this time,” Eskel called after him easily.

“That was _one_ time.”

“They were _my_ birthday shots,” Eskel retorted.

“Which I paid for.” With that Lambert turned and walked away.

Jaskier looked back at Geralt, but he was still wearing that warm smile, this time directed at his brothers.

“Don’t mind him. He doesn’t exactly have a Hallmark ready adoption story either,” Eskel explained.

“You okay?” Jaskier mouthed the words when Geralt caught him watching him.

Geralt nodded. 

Jaskier squeezed his hand anyway and rubbed his ankle with his foot. Geralt continued to smile at him as he leaned over and pressed a kiss to Geralt’s knuckles. 

“In the immortal words of my favorite niece, gross,” Eskel said, finishing off his beer. 

“You’re lucky she’s your only niece. Can’t imagine what children raised by Lambert would turn out like,” Geralt said.

Jaskier laughed, and he noticed Geralt chuckling out of the corner of his eye. Jaskier gave Eskel a punch in the shoulder much as Geralt and Lambert continued to exchange, but he shook his hand out afterward.

“Are you wearing armor?” he asked, frowning at Eskel’s very arm-shaped arms.

Geralt laughed harder.

“I am not.”

Jaskier immediately grabbed him by the bicep and squeezed, looking at Geralt in disbelief. “Geralt, your brother is made of stone.”

“Should I be worried?” Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know. Maybe he should see a doctor? But what kind...oh you mean about me being handsy?” Jaskier said, taking his hands back. “You have very firm arms, and trust me I’ve felt firm arms before. Geralt is no slouch. So, I’m a bit of an expert in bicep firmness, and you sir, have extremely firm biceps...okay, shutting up now.”

Geralt shook his head. “Don’t you have another set to play?”

“I do, and I am going to knock your socks off with all of my mushiest love songs. I will dedicate them all to you, so you know how much I love you even if Eskel’s arms are firmer,” Jaskier told him.

“He came prepared with earplugs _and_ noise cancelling headphones,” Eskel said, pointing as Geralt turned his head to reveal the plugs already in his ears. He’d worn earplugs to be able to handle the noise of the bar. He’d also found the farthest corner from the bar itself, where he’d planted himself with walls on two sides.

“He loves me,” Jaskier said, feeling something warm grow in his gut as he realized Geralt was supportive even when it was physically hard for him to be. “Did he tell you when he realized it?”

“I may have overheard him telling Ciri,” Eskel admitted.

“Isn’t he wonderful?”

“He’s pretty great.” Eskel agreed, clearly unafraid to admit to loving his brothers. “I didn’t hear when you realized though. Unless you don’t love him and are taking advantage of my favorite brother…”

“I would never!” Jaskier said, smacking his very firm shoulder.

“Don’t start the shovel talk without me,” Lambert said, hurrying back to the table with four shots and a waitress following him with a tray of four beers.

Jaskier opened his mouth to note that he could have let the waitress carry the shots as well, so that his thumb wasn’t in any of them, but Geralt just shook his head. Not worth it then.

“I don’t see how I am the one who needs the shovel talk. I’ve already seen one of you drop him off in the middle of the night, and the other one of you come running in the middle of the same night to fix things when he bit me. I am quite aware that you pack of lunatics would likely bury me in the forest and act like I never existed when Yen asked about it.”

“Cheers to burying your boyfriend in the woods,” Lambert said, holding up his shot.

“Fuck you, Lambert,” Jaskier retorted.

“Cheers to that,” Eskel said, a teasing glint in his eye.

“Cheers.”

Before they could fall back into arguing, the bartender waved Jaskier down.

“I’ve got to go perform, but I shall return,” Jaskier said, giving Eskel a poke in the side. “Wait, you’re soft here.”

Eskel definitely turned a little pink as he slid out of the booth. 

“Is that to protect from elbows?”

Geralt and Lambert both laughed at that.

“It’s nice,” Jaskier promised as he walked past him. He was definitely a bit drunk, but that had never hindered a performance before. 

As he was getting ready to go on again, he noticed Lambert motioning expansively as he told the other two some story. They all seemed to be having a good time, and for a moment Jaskier wanted to blow off the second set and just join them. He didn’t though.

He caught Geralt’s eyes on him while he played, and he made sure to play a couple love songs just to be a sap, going so far as to announce that they were dedicated to his love. Eskel and Lambert wolf whistled like assholes, and it was nice.

* * *

The four of them stumbled through Geralt’s front door around one in the morning. They were all very drunk, and Jaskier was not certain how they’d all managed to fit into the car that had shown up for them and also fit his guitar, but he was certain that the driver looked relieved when they’d gotten out.

“Maybe I should buy a house,” Lambert said, standing in the middle of the living room which had two massive mattresses lying in the middle of it rather than normal furniture.

“Then who would kick you out two months into your lease? You’d get bored,” Eskel insisted, grabbing Lambert by the nape of the neck and giving him a friendly squeeze.

“I see assembling the bedrooms is going well,” Jaskier commented, looking around at the mess.

Geralt grunted. “Someone backed out of helping me move furniture, and Ciri is many things but capable of lifting a king mattress is not one of them,” Geralt grumbled, walking into the kitchen and coming back with a half empty case of beers.

“Sorry, I fucked up my back doing a job for you,” Eskel told him, not sounding sorry at all.

“Old man.” Lambert grinned like an idiot when he said it.

“Watch yourself, that just means I know plenty of embarrassing stories to share with the in-law,” Eskel said, wrapping a massive arm around Jaskier’s shoulder and nearly stumbling into him. Eskel was clearly a touchy and cuddly drunk.

“Like being younger means I lack stories about the stupid shit you two did growing up.”

“I happen to love embarrassing childhood stories and think you should tell them all to me,” Jaskier informed them as he and Eskel stumbled over to one of the mattresses and collapsed.

“Whose turn is it?” Lambert asked, taking the beer Geralt offered to him.

“Eskel used to adopt stray animals,” Geralt said.

“Still do,” Eskel retorted, lying on his back with his feet on the floor as they hung off the mattress.

“When we were probably seven, he brought home a stray cat,” Geralt continued, opening the can. 

“Aww,” Jaskier said, poking Eskel in the side and smiling at him.

“Don’t,” Eskel said, smiling and shaking his head.

“Not an aww moment?”

“Not even close.” Eskel sighed.

“The cat wasn’t a cat. It was a skunk. I don’t know if it was a defective skunk or what, but it let him pick it up and wrangle it home. Docile as shit, but then Eskel decided to give it a bath to get rid of the smell that clung to it,” Geralt explained. There were tears in his eyes. “The entire bathroom had to be gutted, I think. Vesemir was pretty much bathing him in tomato soup trying to get rid of the smell. But the bathroom...the _only_ bathroom in the house, couldn’t be saved. You couldn’t step inside without gagging, the scent was so strong, and just wouldn’t go away. We were shitting in a bucket in the backyard for weeks after that.”

“By choice,” Eskel added, also laughing. “It was so bad. No one wanted to go in there.”

“What happened to the skunk?” Jaskier asked, suddenly very concerned.

“It was fine. Ran out the back door when Vesemir came running because Eskel was screaming bloody murder. I think it came back to spray the trash can a few times just to show how displeased it was at the indignity of being bathed.” Geralt wiped a tear from his eye.

“That must have been devastating.”

“Didn’t stop him from adopting everything else that crossed his path.” Geralt grunted.

“You have a good heart, Eskel. Don’t let your brothers tease you,” Jaskier insisted, patting Eskel’s chest, but it was more of a slap because he had lost his coordination several beers ago.

“Think you’ve had enough,” Geralt said, moving to the end of the bed and grabbing Jaskier by the hips and dragging him down to the end of it before lifting him up and throwing him over his shoulder.

“Holy shit!” Jaskier cried as the world spun. Still, he was more than impressed by Geralt’s feat of strength...and balance, given the circumstances.

“Oh shit. If you start spanking him, I’m gonna puke,” Lambert laughed, quickly sliding into the space that Jaskier had left empty.

“Geralt doesn’t do that spanking,” Eskel announced, rolling into Lambert’s side and resting his head on his shoulder.

Jaskier couldn’t be sure because the world was still spinning, but he thought that Lambert’s eyebrows had retreated to somewhere in his hair, possibly the back of his head with the way his mouth hung open. 

“Seriously? Wait, why do you know that?” Lambert almost sounded offended on Geralt’s behalf.

“He talks to me?” Eskel said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“He talks to me too, but not about spanking people!” Lambert sounded offended by the implication in Eskel’s tone.

“To be fair...oh, I think I might puke whether or not you start spanking me. Yikes. Definitely should not have had that last three beers.” Jaskier gulped as Geralt sank on to the other mattress and very gently lowered him onto the soft bedding. The world continued to spin for a moment before Geralt’s face came into view and blocked out the world. “Oh, hello there.”

Geralt shook his head. “You’re wasted.”

“I am, indeed. But I have it on good authority that I am no less handsome or charming when I am wasted.”

“Who told you that?” Geralt asked, reaching down and combing Jaskier’s hair out of his eyes.

“I did, but I was looking in a mirror at the time, so I could be objective.” He was pretty sure they all snorted in unison and, if possible, in harmony.

“You never finished what you were saying,” Lambert coaxed, playfully trying to put Eskel into a headlock.

“Oh yes! What was I saying?” Jaskier asked, turning onto his side to look at their companions.

“You were going to puke,” Geralt filled in for him.

“No before that! Eskel said Geralt doesn’t do the spanking then you said _to be fair…_ ”

“You’re awfully interested all of a sudden. You in the market for someone to spank you, Lambert?” Geralt asked.

Eskel let out a bark of laughter which was promptly cut off by Lambert shoving his face into his armpit.

“Oh yes! I was saying that I do not generally do the spanking either.”

“Jaskier, you really don’t have to explain it to him. He won’t remember it in the morning,” Geralt told him, collapsing onto the bed beside Jaskier and spooning up behind him.

Smiling, Jaskier snuggled back into him.

“No, Geralt, being open and unashamed in the face of honest inquiry is important…”

Before Jaskier could continue, a loud snore sounded from the other side of Eskel,who had managed to escape Lambert’s attack.

Geralt chuckled. “Looks like the old men drank him under the table again.”

“Should leave him out in the backyard cuddling a steak,” Eskel said.

“He almost got eaten by a bear the last time we did that.”

“Would serve him right for not learning from past mistakes.”

“You boys are ruthless,” Jaskier said around a yawn. He didn’t hear their response because he too fell asleep.

* * *

Jaskier woke to a chorus of groans, and he added his own to the mix as the pain settled into his skull. His entire body ached, and even the slightest movement made him have serious regrets.

Then something warm and solid shifted behind him, and he felt soft lips press against the nape of his neck, and suddenly Jaskier didn’t care who else was there. He moaned softly and pressed back into the solid mass that he prayed was Geralt.

“Get a room,” a vaguely familiar voice groaned from a few feet away.

“You could’ve helped me move the beds too, but you refused because it was Eskel’s job,” Geralt’s rumbling voice retorted.

Lambert groaned dramatically.

“How are you feeling?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier hummed as he felt Geralt’s fingers stroking his arm. “I feel cheated that I was too drunk to appreciate snuggling with you.”

“Gag. Hey, keep your elbow to yourself,” Lambert complained as he was elbowed by Eskel who was pretending to stretch in his sleep and accidentally smother his brother. It quickly turned into a wrestling match.

“I told you to stop trying to keep up with Lambert.”

“After I was already drunk. You can’t reason with a drunk Jaskier,” Jaskier told him, rolling onto his back and looking up at Geralt.

His hair was a mess, sticking out and tangled. However, it only added to Geralt’s appeal as he looked down at Jaskier with a small smile.

“You held me, and I didn’t even get to enjoy it.”

“Still holding you.”

“Which is lovely save for the fact that I have a number of beers making my bladder feel like an overtaxed balloon.”

“Not the type of desperation play you were looking to try?” Geralt teased.

“Oh gods, don’t joke on a full bladder,” Jaskier groaned, trying to push himself to sit up but groaning harder as his body protested.

“You aren’t allowed to piss on a brand new mattress,” Geralt told him very unhelpfully.

“That is truly unfortunate because I had so been looking forward to it,” Jaskier snarked back, finally pushing himself up. The world only tilted for a moment before setting itself to rights again.

“You realize we can still hear you two, right?” Lambert asked, peeking out from beneath Eskel’s shoulder where he was pinned to the mattress.

“Darling, did you hear something?” Jaskier asked, finally getting to his feet and swaying until Geralt steadied him by the hips.

“Maybe it’s haunted,” Geralt suggested.

“You two are so lame,” Lambert grunted.

“Weird, I just heard it again. Maybe we should cleanse the place. Kick out any negative energy.”

“Assholes.”

“Come on, before you cleanse my living room,” Geralt said, standing up and guiding Jaskier down the hall to his bedroom and into the en suite.

Geralt brushed his teeth while Jaskier emptied his bladder, and then they switched. 

“How are you feeling?” Geralt asked as he washed his hands and then splashed water on his face.

“Like I’m not quite certain how any of you still have functioning livers, never mind all of you. Aren’t you close to forty?”

“Something like that,” Geralt said cryptically. “We don’t always do that. Sometimes we camp or build something.”

“That is actually rather wholesome and sweet.”

Geralt grunted. “There are towels if you want to shower. I’d offer you the tub, but Yennefer might get territorial about it.”

Jaskier laughed, pressing his forehead into Geralt’s shoulder where they both leaned against the vanity.

“A shower sounds lovely. Though I’m still disappointed that I wasn’t able to take full advantage of you spooning me.”

“Mm.”

“I’m actually surprised you let me stay if I’m being honest.”

“They wouldn’t let me do anything I’d regret,” Geralt said, though he looked away from Jaskier.

“Your brothers? Who were as drunk as we were?”

“Yeah, doesn’t matter. Take a shower, and I’ll see if I have anything to cook.”

Geralt slipped out of the bathroom before Jaskier could question him further. Jaskier found the towels easily and staggered into the large shower before turning on the cold water to perk himself up.

When he came out of the bathroom, there was a bed in the frame in the bedroom. There was also a Lambert lying on it like a starfish. To the side of the bed, Eskel had Geralt in a headlock as they grappled with each other.

Jaskier blinked. “Am I interrupting?”

Three sets of eyes found him, none of them looking sheepish, though a bit surprised.

“We’re moving furniture,” Eskel replied.

“Oh, excuse me for not recognizing it. That is precisely what I am seeing. How silly of me. Does the headlock re-calibrate him?” Jaskier put his hands on his hips as he watched them.

Lambert laughed as Eskel and Geralt let each other go. Geralt walked over to Jaskier and gave him a quick peck on the lips before pulling him into a headlock.

“Geralt! I will puke on you,” he threatened, but Geralt didn’t budge. “You bastard. See if I don’t make an exception and spank you for this.”

Jaskier pushed with all of his might and essentially speared Geralt onto the bed which sent Lambert scrambling to safety. Jaskier and Geralt rolled on the mattress, trying to pin each other while his brothers cheered them on.

Geralt eventually pinned him, straddling his hips and holding him down. Not that he had to because Jaskier was exhausted.

“We’re going to move the other mattress. Try not to break this one in until we leave,” Lambert said, following Eskel out of the room.

“You’re playful around them,” Jaskier said, reaching up and stroking Geralt’s cheek once they were alone.

Geralt shrugged.

“You trust them.”

“They’ve always been there for me.” 

It was implied that no one else had been. If the story of his childhood from the night before was anything to go by, Jaskier could understand why he felt that way.

“You trust them more than you do yourself.”

Geralt looked away, but his eyes tracked back to Jaskier. “Yeah.”

Jaskier just nodded. He hadn’t actually expected Geralt to agree to that.

“I had a lot of fun last night...and even this morning, despite the massive hangover,” Jaskier told him.

Geralt gave him a small smile. “I need to coax those two into helping me move the rest of the furniture before they conveniently have to rush to work, but...maybe we could try a video scene this week?”

Jaskier smiled. “I would be delighted.”

“I’ve never done one.”

“Nor have I. We’ll figure it out,” Jaskier said, giving him a smile.

“We’ll figure it out,” Geralt agreed. “Do you want to stay watch the show, or do you need to get going?”

“Darling, nothing could tear me away from watching the three of you lift furniture.” Just the thought of it was making Jaskier forget the horrid pain he was in. Perhaps not entirely, but if he could coax shirts off, he was certain he wouldn't remember his own name never mind what a hangover was.

Geralt shook his head in fake exasperation. “Come on then.”

Jaskier took his hand and let himself be led out of the bedroom and down the hall to the living room where Lambert and Eskel were once again wrestling on the mattress instead of moving it.

“Are you certain that you are grown men?”

Geralt shrugged but joined the pile of grappling limbs.

Jaskier just took a seat on the couch and watched.


	16. Until You're Clean

Jaskier smiled as his video call connected, and Geralt’s face came up on the screen of his laptop. 

“If it isn’t my lovely wolf,” he said with a grin. “Did you get your bedroom all sorted yet?”

Between the four of them, they’d managed to move Geralt’s furniture into the proper rooms despite their hangovers on Wednesday morning before Lambert or Eskel were able to escape under the guise of work. Though it had to be difficult to make up tasks when Geralt was the one who controlled the jobs. 

“Yeah, the last pieces were delivered this morning, so it is starting to look like a place someone actually lives in,” Geralt said, sounding as tired as he usually did these days.

“Are you sure you’re up for this? You had an appointment today, didn’t you?” Jaskier asked. He was getting pretty good at knowing Geralt’s schedule, though his appointments sometimes shifted. Jaskier didn’t demand to be notified because Geralt had been good about explaining what he felt comfortable with, and Jaskier let the rest go. Great palaces were not built on weak foundations.

“I’m good, you?”

“I have been looking forward to it since you suggested it. You reviewed my notes?”

“Mm. It sounded good. Low key. Included all my suggestions,” Geralt agreed. 

“And you have what you’ll need?”

“Yes.”

“Right, perfect. Are you ready or would you like to ease in?” Jaskier asked. He was sitting at the kitchen island with one of his favorite books opened to where he’d left off in his reread. He’d needed something to distract him from his excitement. There was also a glass of scotch beside it, all in view of his laptop’s camera which he’d angled just far enough away to take in his little scene. He was going for ambiance, but he would settle for just not coming off as an excited puppy.

Geralt’s camera was very close to him, so all Jaskier could currently see was his face, but that would change as soon as they began. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little nervous about their first virtual scene. Jaskier often relied on touch as much as his voice to command a scene, but there was something heady and powerful in the prospect of taking care of Geralt with just his voice. Geralt had, after all, noted that the fewer stimuli the better for him. So despite his uncertainty, Jaskier was very excited.

“Don’t need easing,” Geralt said, pulling his hair into a messy bun.

Jaskier sighed exaggeratedly. “But do you want it, Geralt? Would it feel nice to be eased into our first scene in over two months. I don’t know about you, but this has been the longest I’ve gone without a scene since I started dipping my toes into these waters.”

Geralt gave him a steady smile. “Don’t want to be eased either.”

“Right, you are an extra meat, less bread sort of partner.”

“I’m just tired and edgy, and right now getting into the scene sounds like the best possible thing I could ask for.”

“Right, sorry. I’m trying not to push you, but you’re good.”

“Jaskier.”

Jaskier looked up, blinking at Geralt.

“I’m not nervous,” Geralt said firmly, and suddenly the butterflies in Jaskier belly disappeared into the metaphorical ether. Geralt wasn’t nervous. He trusted him even after a few false starts. He might not trust himself with Jaskier’s safety, but he trusted Jaskier with his.

“Right, well then. I am a bit disappointed that you are hiding from me with this camera angle. I want to see you... _all_ of you,” Jaskier said, checking the notes he’d printed. 

Geralt rolled his eyes at Jaskier’s chiding tone, and Jaskier clicked his tongue.

“None of that. Just because I’m not there doesn’t mean you get to make faces and be a brat. You may think you have the upperhand, but I have yet to introduce you to my falsetto, and it is not a weapon you want to mess with,” Jaskier said before belting out a quick, piercing high note.

Geralt froze and went completely tense at the sound that came out of his computer, and Jaskier gave him a very sharp look. “Am I clear?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Geralt agreed, lowering his chin.

Jaskier was learning that Geralt liked to come right out and test his partner at the beginning of a scene. Jaskier actually liked it. Despite his own words, Jaskier knew it wasn’t to be bratty. It was to make Geralt feel safe. He needed to know what his partner’s reaction would be in the moment during a scene, not what was theoretically agreed upon prior. He needed to see what to expect. Could his partner handle minor disobedience? Would that method translate well to deal with less controlled moments of disobedience or inability to follow directives? How much could Geralt relax into a scene and let his partner take control? 

Geralt knew that Jaskier could physically restrain him if need be, but they weren’t physically in the same space, so Geralt needed to know whether Jaskier could control a veering scene with just his voice.

When Jaskier was doing harder scenes, he also liked to test the waters. He often gave his partners uncomfortable but low-stakes commands out of the gate to judge how they handled them. Sure, surprises could be fun and sexy, but in his experience they more often resulted in a scene cut short.

“Are you going to be a brat?” Jaskier asked, using the word again because he assumed Geralt disliked it. 

“No.” Geralt’s lip ticked up as though he was fighting down a snarl. He _definitely_ didn’t like being called a brat.

“Excellent. Now, step back because I would like to see all of you,” Jaskier commanded, making a shooing motion with his fingers.

Geralt moved back, revealing that he was in the massive master bath Jaskier had seen on Ciri’s tour of the house and his recent sleepover. From the looks of it, Geralt had placed the computer on the vanity, but there was also a chair beside the deep spa tub where he hoped the laptop would end up.

Jaskier tore his gaze away from the truly enviable bathroom—which Geralt had _not_ had to tear out by himself then piece back together...Jaskier was not jealous at all—to look at Geralt himself.

Geralt was wearing the same pair of workout leggings he’d worn for their first scene. However, instead of an over-sized sweatshirt, he was wearing a simple black t-shirt which clung to his chest pleasingly.

“Is this your scene uniform?” Jaskier asked, resting his chin in his palm as he took in Geralt’s appearance. He wouldn't have minded if this was all Geralt ever wore, though the leather look was also mouth watering. 

Geralt grunted, clearly unwilling to admit to anything incriminating—or simply comforting.

“Either way, it is a good look, my darling wolf. I see you are in the master bath. Did you ask Yennefer’s permission to use it?” Jaskier teased.

“I mentioned that she shouldn’t come over for a bath this afternoon or use her key to get in…”

Jaskier grinned. Geralt’s relationship with Yennefer was something of a marvel. They were both so unrepentantly open with each other that it was hard to get a read on them as an outsider. Even as Yennefer’s friend and Geralt’s boyfriend, Jaskier couldn’t really understand them. Clearly, they cared deeply about each other. There was attraction there if they’d been lovers on multiple occasions, yet they’d chosen lives apart rather than to raise their daughter together. They loved Ciri tremendously and seemed to have co-parenting down to an art. But, who let their ex choose their house and gave her a key to use as she pleased? 

“That was very polite of you,” Jaskier said, keeping his tone teasing.

Geralt shrugged. “Not in the mood to get walked in on in my own home.”

Jaskier didn’t say anything about giving out keys like candy because he did actually have a little self control. It was a close call though.

“Mm, well, I am delighted to have you all to myself, my love. Would you turn for me, so I can see all of you?”

Jaskier bit his bottom lip as Geralt did a slow turn, showing Jaskier his body in the blessedly clear video taken by the laptop. The fabric of the leggings strained around Geralt’s sizable ass, and Jaskier withheld a moan at the sight of it. 

“You are a gift,” he said, sighing as Geralt returned to facing forward. Jaskier’s eyes narrowed as he took in Geralt’s entire form again. “Step forward.

Geralt followed the direction taking one step forward.

“Again.”

Then another step forward. 

“Are you not wearing underwear?” Jaskier asked, positively delighted by what his eyes took in. He could clearly see the outline of Geralt's cock with how snug those leggings were. It was distracting to say the least.

Geralt grunted.

“A real answer,” Jaskier demanded, though his tone was gentle and coaxing.

“No underwear.”

“Oh, how lovely. Cup yourself through the leggings, please.”

Geralt did as he was asked, gently cupping himself for the camera.

Jaskier chewed his lower lip as tapped on the table rapidly. “Massage yourself.”

The muscles in Geralt’s forearm shifted as he began to squeeze and touch himself. It was thrilling to watch him obey easily, and Jaskier didn’t bother to mask his appreciation.

“I love when you follow my directions. And what beautiful work you do. Remove your hand. Let me see.”

Geralt returned his hand to his side, revealing the bulge that strained against the thin fabric of the leggings.

“Gorgeous. Turn to the side a little...perfect. Oh, you are stunning,” Jaskier said as he saw Geralt in profile. “May I see you touch yourself from this angle?” It was in the form of a question, but it wasn’t a question, and Geralt immediately brought the hand farther from the camera up to touch himself, so his arm wouldn’t block the angle.

Jaskier was certain he was in paradise, and they really hadn’t even started. This was just the appetizer to whet the appetite. 

“I could watch you all day,” Jaskier sighed, simply enjoying the way Geralt touched himself confidently but not with urgency. He wasn’t taking advantage of Jaskier’s distance. He wasn’t desperate from the get go. He was disciplined, and Jaskier had never realized how much of a turn on that was until now.

“Tell me what you feel, Wolf.”

Geralt glanced at the camera before looking down at where he touched himself. “I’m half hard. Just enough to fill my hand but not enough to be rigid. If I was just touching myself, this is when I’d play with my foreskin a bit. Pull it, pinch in lightly, roll it between my fingers…”

“Are you asking permission?” Jaskier asked, loving the image Geralt painted.

“May I show you?” Geralt asked. 

Geralt was relaxed, not begging or strained by possible denial. He knew Jaskier would give him anything his asked for, and that warmed Jaskier. It also surprised him. Geralt wasn’t big on asking for things during scenes unless it was necessary, so asking for indulgence was...breathtaking.

“Yes, please,” Jaskier agreed. “Lower the leggings but only enough to touch yourself.”

Geralt pushed the leggings down his hips until his cock was freed, still hanging heavily despite the attention Geralt was giving to it. The back of the leggings were still half covering Geralt’s ass, and that image alone was arousing.

“Turn toward me...that’s it. Hold yourself up…” Jaskier’s felt a little foolish when he had to shove his own hand under the counter to squeeze himself at the sight of Geralt resting his cock over the palm of his hand like he was presenting it to Jaskier as a gift. “Fuck, but you are perfect, my love,” Jaskier praised. “Now, show me what you had in mind.”

Geralt gave his cock a long stroke from root to tip, gently pulling his foreskin over the head and worrying it at the end of the stroke. His hips rocked forward just slightly as his fingers pinched it closed and rolled it very gently between his fingers. Geralt’s exhale was a pleased rumble as he released it and stroked his hand back down his cock, pulling it back naturally with the movement.

Jaskier’s whole body tingled as he watched Geralt do this several times. His movements were slow and relaxed, even as he was clearly enjoying it. His cock thickened fully by the time he stopped, and Jaskier felt a bit lightheaded with desire.

“I think that you have played a terrible trick on me, my dear,” Jaskier sighed as he looked up at Geralt’s face, seeing the relaxed arousal written across his features. “You have put me under your spell and at your mercy, when I am supposed to be in charge.”

“Hmm.”

“Indeed.” Jaskier glanced beyond Geralt at the tub then back at Geralt’s cock which was still resting in his hand, though fuller than before.

“You have shown me what you enjoy, but now I think it is my turn. Clothes off, please,” Jaskier commanded, giving himself one last squeeze and straightening his posture. Geralt never let a scene get dull, and it pulled Jaskier deeper than he often got even with regular partners.

Geralt released himself and pushed his leggings down then tugged his shirt up and over his head before standing tall, completely bare.

“Turn for me again, my love.”

Geralt did as he was bid, stepping in a slow rotation.

“Stop,” Jaskier commanded when Geralt was facing away from him, putting his ass on display. His eyes were immediately drawn to the scar on Geralt’s back which had been the catalyst for many of their struggles. 

Jaskier hadn’t seen it since that day at the doctor’s office. It was completely healed now just a little pinker than the other scars, standing out just enough to taunt him. Though perhaps it didn’t stand out at all. It was hardly big enough to pinpoint among the other scars on Geralt’s body, but Jaskier could pick it out like he was tied to it by a string. 

“Please pick up the clothes you took off and fold them nicely,” Jaskier asked. He made sure Geralt wasn’t looking before rubbing at the fading scar on his shoulder from Geralt’s bite. The phantom pain of that night resurfacing. He chastised himself, shaking off the negative feelings that that scar brought to the surface. Now was not the time. 

Jaskier didn’t bother to hide his grin as Geralt bent at the waist to pick up his discarded clothes, giving Jaskier an unimpeded view of his ass. The buzz in his veins only got stronger as Geralt turned to place the folded clothes somewhere on the vanity beside the computer. 

“Now, run yourself a bath.”

Geralt turned and walked away, once again giving Jaskier a remarkable view of his muscles in motion. Then he bent over the tub and turned the faucet on, placing his hand beneath the stream of water to test the temperature. Once he was satisfied, he left it running and returned to the laptop. 

“Very good. Now, move the camera to the chair and sit on the edge of the tub, facing me with legs spread. I would like to appreciate you properly.”

Once again, Geralt took the direction without hesitation. Jaskier could see how relaxed he was despite his very obvious arousal. It was perfect. Geralt was perfect.

Jaskier wanted to sob when Geralt placed the laptop down then sat on the ledge of the tub with his gorgeous thighs spread. Jaskier had to take a moment just to enjoy him from this angle. His eyes traveled from the inside of one knee up the thickly muscled thigh which was so appealingly covered in hair. His eyes paused on Geralt’s cock which rested against his right thigh, then followed the path back down his other thigh to the inside of his other knee. Jaskier’s mouth was dry, and his cock was straining in his pants by the time he looked up at Geralt’s face again.

“Run your palms over your thighs for me.”

Jaskier sighed as he watched Geralt touch himself with gentle hands, and he wished that it was his palms brushing over those strong muscles. However, there was something equally arousing about watching Geralt do it himself. A tiny knowledge that this was not something Geralt allowed himself, and commanding him to do it was its own kind of power play. Jaskier felt that heady sense of arousal that grew in his gut at the knowledge that he was giving Geralt this pleasure, using him as the tool of his own pleasure.

“Lift your cock, darling...cup your balls...massage them.”

Jaskier nibbled his lip and took a sip of his scotch as Geralt groaned softly as he rolled his testicles in the palm of his hand. The warmth of the alcohol in his belly spread through him as the world faded and only Geralt existed. He didn’t take another sip as he watched Geralt continue to touch himself, instead studying every beautiful expression that crossed Geralt’s features. 

“Lift your balls as well. Would you bring your thumb to your lips and suck it wet for me, Wolf?” Jaskier asked, knowing it could be a sensitive request and thus using Geralt’s preferred scene name to a softer endearment. Geralt liked to be cared for, but Jaskier knew he would resist if he felt coddled.

Geralt did as he was bid though, sucking his thumb into his mouth and wetting it thoroughly with his tongue. It was one of the most erotic things Jaskier had ever see. The way Geralt’s tongue wrapped around the digit. Jaskier took in the image wishing he could keep it for all eternity. 

“Now place it behind your testicles and rub yourself for me,” Jaskier said once Geralt’s thumb was good and wet.

He brought his hand down and placed it as Jaskier had asked, beginning to gently rub himself. His hips jerked involuntarily, and Geralt let out another soft groan. 

“How does that feel?”

“It’s...good.”

Jaskier smiled, knowing that Geralt wasn’t being difficult. That was simply how he viewed it. He was completely capable of being detailed and taking part in dirty talk, but it wasn’t his natural state, and coaxing it out of him was becoming one of Jaskier’s favorite things.

“How so?” Jaskier asked, tipping his head to the side to take Geralt in from a different angle.

Geralt hesitated for a moment, and Jaskier gave him the time to gather his words. There was no rush.

“Can feel it in my gut,” Geralt told him, squeezing his eyes shut as he seemed to increase the pressure.

“Excellent. Wish I could place my hand on your belly and feel that little hitch in your breathing when you touch yourself.”

Geralt groaned, tucking his chin to his chest as he continued to touch himself. “Can feel it in my skin, like every hair is standing up...waiting. Fuck.” Geralt sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and Jaskier mirrored it. 

“Gorgeous, now move your fingers a little further back. No penetration, just pressure.”

Geralt cursed as he pushed his fingers back, switching to his middle finger rather than his thumb at this angle. He panted as he pressed against his rim without pushing in.

“Don’t stop,” Jaskier commanded, loving each hitch in Geralt’s normally measured breathing. “Harder.”

Geralt cursed again, increasing the pressure and making the muscles in his forearm stand out at the tense restraint he was using. Jaskier was tempted to ask him to continue describing what he felt, but he let Geralt simply experience it.

Jaskier started talking, crooning really. He wasn’t really aware of what he was saying but letting the words flow, and he noticed almost immediately the way Geralt’s shoulders relaxed just a hair. He continued to talk as he let Geralt continue teasing himself, pausing only to give short commands. 

When he could see the tub was quite full, he had Geralt turn off the water before stepping into it.

“Kneel for me, so I can see you,” Jaskier told him, biting his lip as he saw Geralt kneeling in the water. “Now, I want to see my lovely wolf nice and clean for me.” Jaskier commanded him to gather his washcloth and soap and bring it to a lather.

Jaskier felt his own pulse rabbit in his chest as he guided Geralt to clean his arms and work the lather into his chest hair. 

“That’s it, darling. A little more. Now touch your nipples for me.”

Jaskier felt a heady sense of power as Geralt actually gasped as he pinched his nipple at Jaskier’s command.

“Roll it like you did your foreskin.”

The sound Geralt made had Jaskier humming a happy tune as he watched Geralt’s hips rock gently of their own volition. His wolf was so fully aroused, he wasn’t even aware of his body simply flowing with its need, but Jaskier was.

“Now bring your washcloth lower, my darling. That’s right. Be thorough,” Jaskier ordered, watching Geralt begin to clean his groin. He smiled adoringly as Geralt shivered, stroking his shaft with a sudsy palm. 

“All of you,” Jaskier reminded him, and Geralt obediently lifted his cock to cup and clean his testicles. Jaskier loved how uninhibited Geralt was about his body. Touching himself and presenting himself was never met with resistance. There was something so utterly satisfying about the way Geralt let Jaskier have all of him at least physically. It made working for the rest of him that much sweeter.

“Now, turn for me, so I can see you clean your back.”

Geralt carefully shifted in the tub, so his back was to Jaskier. 

“Run your hands over your lower back...that’s right...lower...lower...spread them, yes, just like that. And lean forward.”

Geralt hesitated with his cheeks spread and his ass on display.

“Don’t be shy, wolf. Lean forward, so I can see you,” Jaskier coaxed, taking a small sip of his drink because his mouth was completely dry. Geralt still didn’t move intentionally, though he swayed slightly. His back was suddenly rigid.

Jaskier frowned. He tapped his fingers on the edge of the counter before forcing himself to relax. 

“Can you not balance if you lean forward?” Jaskier asked calmly.

“No.”

“No you can’t balance, or no that is not the problem?”

“The latter.”

“What color are we?” 

“Green.”

Jaskier hummed. “Then tell me what is wrong, my dear, because I would very much like to see you as I asked.”

Geralt didn’t say anything, and Jaskier frowned. 

“Sit,” he commanded firmly, tone level never sharp. “Raise your arms and place them behind your head.”

Geralt raised his arms, but the one he’d injured looked cramped and painful as he tried to place it correctly. Jaskier frowned. 

“If you can’t do that with your recovering arm then leave it at your side.”

Geralt didn’t immediately lower it, though Jaskier could clearly see the way the muscles twitched and strained.

“At your side, you won’t hurt yourself just to hide the weakness. I’m setting a timer for three minutes. You will sit there and think about why you are refusing to communicate with me, and if at the end you would like to speak, I will consider leaving it at that. If you continue to be obstinate, we will be having a very frank and uncomfortable conversation.”

Geralt didn’t protest. He sat completely still.

Jaskier set his phone’s timer for three minutes, and turned off his microphone. He watched Geralt very carefully as the timer counted down. He tapped on the counter top, and his leg bounced, but he never took his eyes off Geralt. 

Geralt hadn’t mentioned his arm still not having a full range of motion. It was easy to forget he’d done significant damage to the muscles when he spent his days hauling around furniture and painting or even carrying around Ciri like he’d never had an ache in his life. Jaskier supposed that was the point though. Never show weakness, just suffer in silence.

Jaskier gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to become angry. It wasn’t that Geralt couldn’t move his arm fully or that he hadn’t vocalized the weakness beforehand. It was the refusal to say it now...when directly asked. 

Slowing his breathing, Jaskier centered himself. His wolf needed encouragement not anger. He needed to be reminded that he was safe. Geralt may have had years more experience than him, but he also had years of trauma that may or may not have had anything to do with BDSM. It had admittedly colored some of his experiences, and Jaskier reminded himself that there was a very real reason that Geralt wasn’t comfortable doing this in person. 

Just before the timer went off, he turned the microphone back on, so Geralt could hear it. He studied the way Geralt tensed slightly as the soft alarm rang out. He couldn’t help but wonder what was running through Geralt’s mind.

Turning it off, Jaskier wet his lips. “Care to tell me why you refused to communicate with me?” he asked, being sure to keep his tone level because he was not angry and didn’t want Geralt to get that idea.

“No.”

“Very well. I am going to remind you that if you need me to stop or slow that you need to use your color signals. If you are in _any_ pain, you will say red. Do not pass Go; do not collect two hundred dollars. I won’t ask questions. Understood?”

“Understood.” 

“Turn around and pick up the shampoo.” Jaskier let it go for now, guiding Geralt through washing his hair and conditioning it. He smiled as he watched the way Geralt’s muscles shifted as he cleaned his hair, though he favored his injured arm. It was easy to see when Jaskier was looking, and it was also easy to give commands that wouldn’t strain it more.

When his hair was clean, Jaskier ordered Geralt to rest with his back to the side of the tub. He spoke softly as Geralt relaxed in the warm water. When Jaskier saw that there was no tension in Geralt’s muscles or features, he slowed his words.

“Prop your far leg up on the edge of the tub,” Jaskier commanded.

Geralt did as he was asked, and Jaskier smiled. 

“Do you have the toy we agreed on?”

Geralt reached over and picked up the waterproof bullet vibrator Jaskier had picked out from the list of toys Geralt owned. Jaskier couldn’t hide his smile at the color. It was a vibrant purple color, and Jaskier couldn’t decide whether Geralt picked it himself or if it had been a gag gift that he’d ended up keeping. A small part of him enjoyed the image of Geralt choosing it for himself. A small indulgence with a vibrant presence. Geralt deserved little indulgences. Though the thought of Geralt genuinely thanking Lambert for what Lambert thought was a gag gift was a different kind of priceless.

“You’re so very good for me, my wolf. Start it on the lowest setting for me.”

Geralt pressed the little button to bring the toy to life, and Jaskier hummed appreciatively. 

“Now, touch it to your nipple very lightly.” Jaskier rode the high of giving commands he knew would be followed without hesitation. 

Geralt groaned softly at the tease, but he followed the direction without resistance. Jaskier had him touch the other nipple before moving to a more powerful vibration.

“Tweak the other one while you use the vibrator. Don’t leave it unattended,” Jaskier told him, biting his lip as Geralt arched into his own touch. The arch of his spine was a work of art, and Jaskier slowly touched himself to the sight—enjoying the hum of pleasure in his gut.

Jaskier guided Geralt to run the vibrator down his chest, encouraging him the entire time with quiet words of praise. He knew Geralt probably didn’t hear most of it, but Jaskier’s voice was what he latched on to. 

When the toy reached the thick pubic hair just about Geralt’s cock, Jaskier halted Geralt’s progress.

“Take yourself in hand, my dear. Now, go back to the lowest setting.”

Geralt held his cock loosely as he adjusted the setting on the vibrator quickly. 

“Start at the base,” Jaskier said, carefully unbuckling his belt beneath the counter. 

Geralt touched the vibrator to his cock and responded immediately, arching into it and wiggling as he settled again. 

“Again, Love.”

Geralt teased himself, making a small noise that Jaskier would’ve categorized as a whimper coming from anyone else, but it almost sounded like a purr coming from Geralt’s chest. It was deeper and fuller.

Jaskier unzipped his fly and pressed his hand into his pants as he guided Geralt to drag the vibrator up the underside of his cock. He had to squeeze himself through his boxers as Geralt began to make needy little sounds from the stimulation. He could read the arousal in every line of Geralt’s body as he failed to hold still when Jaskier commanded him to carefully tease the head of his cock.

It was tempting to order Geralt to maintain stillness, but there was something even more satisfying to see him undone by Jaskier’s gentle commands. 

“Does it have a pulse setting?”

“Mm. Several.”

“Pick the one you like best, Wolf, for being so good for me. Then settle it behind your balls while you stroke yourself.”

Jaskier wet his lips with the tip of his tongue as Geralt placed the vibrator behind his testicles and pressed it to the sensitive area. The rumble in his chest grew louder as he slowly stroked his cock beneath the water. Only the head breached the surface, though Jaskier could easily see from the vantage point of the camera. 

“That’s it. Gods, how did I get so lucky?” Jaskier said, stroking himself in time with Geralt. “Would you like to see what you do to me?”

Geralt cocked his head to the side and looked over at the laptop with hooded eyes. “Yes...please.”

Jaskier smiled, standing up and adjusting his laptop, so it was pointed at his crotch. His belt hung undone, and his pants were opened to show the bulge in his boxers.

“Do you want to see how hard I am for you?” Jaskier asked, palming his cock through the soft cotton of his boxers.

Geralt cursed softly, keeping his rhythm slow and the pressure of the vibrator the same because Jaskier hadn’t told him to change anything. However, Jaskier could tell he wanted more. 

“Yes, please,” Geralt repeated, clearly making the effort to open his eyes completely.

“Do you think you deserve it?”

“No.” There was no hesitation in the response.

“Thank you for being honest, my love. For your honesty, a small treat,” Jaskier said, reaching into his boxers and pulling the head of his cock out. He didn’t reveal all of his erection, but enough to tantalize Geralt. “You can see how much you affect me,” Jaskier said, rolling his foreskin back and squeezing the head as a drop of fluid beaded on there.

Geralt groaned, continuing to stroke himself with that slow, even rhythm Jaskier had demanded. 

“I bet you’d like to feel me on your lips.”

Geralt moaned, rhythm faltering just slightly, but he might as well have stopped complete for how it gave him away.

“That’s right. You’d love to swallow me down while you stroke yourself.”

“Yes.”

“You’d take every inch of me, wouldn’t you? My sweet sweet wolf would savor every inch…”

“ _Yes_.”

Jaskier chewed his lip slightly as he stopped himself from touching his own cock. Geralt hadn’t earned that even if he was absolutely stunning right now. Jaskier poked his tongue out of his mouth as he slowly tucked himself back into his boxers and sat down once again.

“What are you feeling?”

“Feel like a bowstring pulled back as far as it can go,” Geralt said, shifting again to try to feel comfortable. 

“Pull the plug on the tub, Darling. You have until it drains to bring yourself to orgasm.”

Jaskier waited as Geralt leaned forward and pulled the stopper before falling back against the side of the tub, continuing to use the small toy to stimulate himself as he stroked his cock.

Geralt panted as his hips jerked into each stroke. His eyes were closed, and he rocked from side to side as he raced the clock. Jaskier could tell he was close, body arching and seeking just the right touch. 

“Look at you, Darling. Gods, I could watch you forever. Every muscle...every breath,” Jaskier whispered praise, fully aware of the way Geralt practically leaned into it, straining to hear him over that sound of his own ragged breaths.

“I want to see you come for me, my wolf. I’ll be so sad if you withhold that from me,” he said, eyeing the level of the water as it sank below Geralt’s hips.

Geralt was focused, and his pace didn’t falter. He clearly knew what he needed, and he used the vibrator precisely. The bright purple caught Jaskier’s attention when Geralt placed it just beneath the head of his cock while continuing to stroke himself. Then it was back between his legs again, pulsing behind his testicles.

Jaskier’s tongue poked out as he watched Geralt pleasure himself, keenly aware of the level of the water in the tub. Jaskier’s own cock was aching as he stroked himself to Geralt. Jaskier held his tongue as the drain began to make the telltale groan that proclaimed that it was nearly empty. Jaskier was going to sob if Geralt didn’t make it. 

Just then, Geralt threw his head back and let out a loud cry that overtook the sound of the drain. His arm went taut where it held the vibrator between his legs, and his other arm continued to stroke his cock quickly.

Jaskier’s breath caught as Geralt’s whole body lifted as his cock spilled over his fist and onto his belly. His shoulders shook with the waves of it. The vibrator hit the bottom of the tub with a clunk, and Geralt’s now empty hand gripped his thigh as another splatter hit his belly.

It was stunning, and it took Jaskier a moment to realize that he had been praising Geralt from the moment it started.

“Gods, you’re beautiful, my love,” Jaskier sighed as Geralt slowly relaxed. “What color?”

“Green.”

“Then I’ll leave you to recover, and you’ll call me back when you’re ready?” Jaskier asked, ready to disconnect the call and give Geralt his space as usual. Then he’d take care of himself.

“No.” Geralt’s head lolled to the side, eyes opening the smallest amount to look at Jaskier through the screen.

“Is something wrong?” 

“Don’t disconnect. You can stay,” Geralt told him, bringing his hand up to wipe the wet hair out of his face and pull it into a messy bun, so none of it touched his face or neck. Then he fell back against the side of the tub again.

Jaskier felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. He wanted to ask if Geralt knew what he was saying, but of course he did. Swallowing his elation, Jaskier smiled at the camera.

“Oh, okay. Is there anything you’d like me to do, or maybe just sit here quietly?”

Geralt snorted. “You couldn’t if you tried.”

“Rude, but not untrue.”

“You could...sing to me?” Geralt’s voice was soft and had the quality of sounding far aware though he was no further than before.

Jaskier’s heart felt as though it grew several sizes at Geralt’s request. He smiled, cocking his head to the side. “Any requests?”

“Just nothing with that falsetto.”

“I’ll have you know that my falsetto is incredible,” Jaskier said, biting his bottom lip as he thought about what to sing.

“Incredibly grating.” Geralt just laid there in the empty tub, not moving despite there being no water in it and him being covered in his own spend.

Jaskier huffed, but it quickly turned into a hum before he started singing one of the slower songs from his set the other night. 

Geralt didn’t really acknowledge his singing or anything else. That wasn’t the point. For his part, Geralt laid there silently in the empty tub. He was still covered in his own spend, and his cock rested untouched against his thigh. His breathing slowed eventually to the point where Jaskier thought he might be sleeping, but it was too measured. He seemed to be meditating.

Jaskier made sure that he never stopped singing, letting one song flow into the next to keep from breaking Geralt’s concentration. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there watching, but it never became tedious. 

When Geralt eventually opened his eyes, he immediately looked toward the laptop. He looked so relaxed as Jaskier’s voice tapered off. He just had to look at Geralt and give him his complete focus.

“Gonna clean off, then we can put on your show,” Geralt mumbled sitting up. He sat cross legged in the tub, turning the faucet back on but not plugging up the tub. With quick hands, he washed away the evidence of his pleasure before thoroughly cleaning his cock. Jaskier smiled when he cleaned beneath his foreskin like he was completely used to doing so for an audience, never once glancing in Jaskier’s direction.

When he was finished, he got out of the tub and stepped away from the camera. “Just a second,” Geralt’s voice called out from off screen.

Jaskier used the opportunity to move his own setup to the living room where he had their agreed-upon episode of Real Housewives of Redania ready to play.

Geralt came back on screen in an over-sized hoodie with Kaer Morhen Consulting written across the chest. Instead of saying anything, the laptop was lifted and Jaskier watched Geralt carry it into the bedroom before settling on the bed. Geralt propped himself against a few pillows and picked up the remote on the nightstand.

“A TV in your bedroom?” Jaskier asked, tone teasing.

“It was Yen’s housewarming gift...one of her housewarming gifts. Said that this way I can watch movies with Ciri when she has a nightmare without the chance of accidentally forgetting to close a porn tab or something.”

“Has that happened?”

“No. She’s just allergic to genuine kind gestures.”

Jaskier laughed. “Well, Mr. Fancy TV, are you ready?”

“Mm.”

They both hit play on their remotes, and they watched together. They weren’t ten minutes into the episode when Geralt began to snore lightly. 

Jaskier smiled, remembering their first scene together. The pleasant hum he’d felt all scene grew into a soft warmth he practically felt all over, like he was lighter than air and just glowing. Even miles apart, this was right where he wanted to be. With Geralt.

When the episode ended, Jaskier considered letting Geralt continue sleeping, but they had things to discuss, so he ended up calling Geralt.

Geralt’s eyes blinked open, and he groped around for his phone until he noticed Jaskier watching him with his phone to his ear.

“That you?”

“Indeed, it is.”

“Is it important?”

Jaskier chuckled. “If I say yes, are you going to get up and go find it?”

“No.”

“Ass.” Jaskier hung up and just smiled at Geralt for a moment. “I promised you a frank and uncomfortable conversation,” he said at last.

“Glad I didn’t answer it then.”

“You wish I was that easy to ignore,” Jaskier joked, sitting up more on his couch to prepare himself for this.

“Have at it.” Geralt sighed, sounding resigned.

Jaskier took a steadying breath, gathering his courage before launching in.

“You make me so proud when you follow my commands,” Jaskier said, watching Geralt carefully, but he seemed calm. “I love watching you move and pleasure yourself, knowing you do not give yourself the attention you deserve very often...so, it _stings_ just a bit when you block me out. You’re keeping yourself from me, and you won’t tell me why.”

Geralt didn’t say anything, and he didn’t move, but Jaskier could see the change in his breathing. He was fully listening.

“Will you run your fingertips down your chest then rest your palm over your lower belly when you reach it?”

Geralt didn’t hesitate to drag his fingers over his chest as asked, and when his palm rested just below his belly button, Jaskier sighed. 

“That’s where I feel it, like a boot to the gut. Swift, but the ache lingers. It’s nothing like the pleasant arousal I’d rather be feeling. Now, tell me Darling, what do you feel?”

“You're disappointed in me.”

“I am, but that isn’t what I asked. I asked you to tell me what you are feeling.”

Geralt was silent for a long time. “A pinch in my shoulder,” he said at last.

Jaskier breathed out heavily. “Thank you,” he said softly even though that hadn’t been the answer he was looking for exactly.

Geralt didn’t say anything further, and Jaskier didn’t expect him to. 

“You understand that I will never punish you for what you can’t do whether physically or emotionally.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“Okay. And you know that I am not disappointed because you’re in pain?”

“Yes.”

“Very good.”

“Are you comfortable telling me why you refused to say you were in pain?”

“It’s not pain. I physically can’t reach behind myself and maintain strength or dexterity.”

“Okay…” Jaskier thought for a moment. “Were you aware of this before I asked?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay. If I tell you what I’m thinking will you confirm my suspicions for me?”

“Yes.”

“Very good… I think… that you have a great deal of difficulty showing what you perceive to be weakness in an honest and open way, my darling.”

“Mm.”

It was an affirmative hum if Jaskier ever heard one, and he let it slide, knowing he was walking a tightrope. Any false step, and Geralt would shut down on him.

“But, I also believe that you are capable. I saw the way you interacted with your brothers. You let Eskel coddle you. He had his arm around you, holding you to his side protectively like he’d fight the entire noisy bar if you needed quiet...and you _let_ him. So, I know that you can lay yourself bare. I know that you can accept love. I’m sure that Eskel has earned that with blood, sweat, and tears. I’m sure that Lambert has as well even if he won’t outwardly admit it. I’m not going to ask you how I can earn that kind of trust. I know it doesn’t work that way, but I will ask you to remember that this is a two-way street. If you don’t tell me something hurts or that you can’t physically do it, then I ask you to do something that hurts you, I am going to feel responsible for that because you trusted me to keep you safe during our scene. Do you understand that?”

“Yeah.”

Jaskier sighed. “I think I’m fairly good at reading you, Geralt, but going on lucky guesses is a disaster waiting to happen. I have the scar to prove it too.”

Geralt flinched, but Jaskier didn’t back down. “I’m not perfect. When you have to deal with me the week grades are due, you’ll wish for another two month retreat in the woods. I forget to eat, and bathing is adding an extra layer of cologne to cover the odor. You can be messy with me just as I hope I can be messy with you.”

Geralt chuckled softly, but he nodded. “I’ll...work on it.”

“Okay. Do you mind if I ask about your arm now that we aren’t in a scene?”

“Not much to tell. I am doing the exercises that the doctor gave me. It’s just going to take time.”

Jaskier nodded. “Does it still hurt?”

“It can be uncomfortable, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“Good.”

“Does yours?” Geralt asked, pointing at Jaskier’s neck. The mark wasn’t visible, but once again Jaskier’s hand went to it. 

“Not physically.”

Geralt nodded. “I can’t remember if I apologized...I can’t remember a lot of that night, but I am sorry.”

“I forgave you as soon as it happened, Geralt.”

“I know. You still deserve the apology.”

Jaskier gave him a small smile. “You get to choose our munch activity this week since it’s the off week at the pub.”

Geralt rolled his eyes at the less than smooth shift. “I’ll think about it and let you know.”

“You are doing this on purpose. You know I can’t handle the suspense!”

“Mm.” Geralt just gave him a grin. “Another episode?”

“Are you going to fall asleep immediately?”

“Probably.”


	17. Chapter 17

Jaskier wasn’t answering texts. If it had been literally any other person, including his own daughter, Geralt wouldn’t have thought twice about it. However, Jaskier answered almost immediately whenever Geralt texted him. Jaskier had answered the phone multiple times while using the bathroom. He texted in the  _ tub _ . There was rarely an occasion that the man didn’t respond within five minutes, and that was usually because he was unconscious.

So, Geralt was more than a little concerned that they had plans, but Jaskier hadn’t answered a single text all morning. Geralt had sent  _ three  _ which, to him, was considered pestering and a grave offense, but he hoped that to Jaskier it seemed like legitimate questions and not fishing for attention.

Geralt tried to tell himself that they were questions that needed answering such as what he wanted Geralt to pick up for their lunch. Geralt packed up the truck and ignored the voice in the back of his head that told him he’d fucked up and Jaskier didn’t want to see him again. He knew it was ridiculous, but that didn’t stop it from whispering at the back of his mind.

Instead, he pulled out of his driveway and drove across Novigrad to Jaskier’s house. It wasn’t a particularly long drive, but there was no way of getting there without becoming frustrated by people who didn’t know how to use directionals or accelerate. Novigrad was hardly a big city like New Cintra or even Vizima, but it was still irritating to drive in. Which was part of the reason he had avoided bringing his truck into the city at all cost in the past. It was easier to owe his brothers for driving him than deal with city traffic.

Geralt pulled the truck into Jaskier’s driveway, parking behind Jaskier’s much more practical car and checking his phone one last time. Still no response. Geralt frowned. He hated the uncomfortable feeling beneath his skin that made him think he’d done something wrong.

Pressing the call button, Geralt put his phone to his ear as he stepped out of the truck. It rang several times before turning over to voicemail, and Geralt’s frown only deepened. Walking to the door, he knocked several times, waiting to see if Jaskier would answer.

Finally, Geralt thumbed over to his recent contacts and called Yen.

“This better be good because you’re interrupting my alone time with your tub,” Yennefer said by way of greeting.

“Jaskier isn’t answering my calls or texts, and now he isn’t answering the door. Did I fuck up and not know it?” He skipped right to the self flagellation. No point in wasting either of their time.

“Ugh, you two are made for each other. Find out for yourself. He leaves a key under the little dragon in the flowerbed,” Yennefer said before promptly hanging up on him.

Geralt sighed. He really shouldn’t have been expecting anything else. 

He walked over to the flowerbed and easily located the little dragon figurine that was nestled amongst the blossoms. As Yennefer had said, there was a key beneath it. So, Geralt picked it up.

The house was quiet as Geralt stepped inside. Geralt checked the kitchen and bathroom before walking down the hall to Jaskier’s bedroom. The door was open, and it was easy to spot the Jaskier-sized lump beneath the thick duvet.

Geralt was equally relieved and concerned to find that Jaskier was simply asleep and not consciously avoiding him. However, it was past ten in the morning, and the man was usually up before seven if his texts were anything to go by. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt called softly without actually entering the room. He didn’t want to frighten the man or invade his privacy either. He knew he himself wouldn’t be able to handle someone coming into his room to wake him up...other than Ciri. She had a very distinct method of waking him that could not be confused with anything else.

Geralt’s concern only grew when Jaskier didn’t rouse at all when his name was called. Sighing, Geralt stepped into the familiar room and walked silently to the bed. He was thankful that this hadn’t been the room he’d hurt Jaskier in. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to step foot in the spare/playroom again.

Only the top of Jaskier’s head was visible beneath the plush duvet as Geralt approached. Geralt sat carefully on the edge of the bed and tugged the duvet down just a bit. He could tell Jaskier was in a deep sleep just from the way he was breathing.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said softly, finding Jaskier’s shoulder in the mountain of blankets and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Jaskier hummed in his sleep, shifting to tug his blanket up higher. Geralt grunted in amusement, tugging the blanket back down again. Jaskier grumbled in his sleep.

“Wake up, Jaskier,” Geralt said, a little louder this time. 

“Mm, this is lovely. Come back to bed, Darling,” Jaskier cooed in his sleep. 

Geralt smirked. Some dream Jaskier was having.

“Jaskier, it’s nearly eleven. We were supposed to be headed to Eskel’s by now,” Geralt told him. He gave him a gentle shake this time.

Jaskier moaned softly, blinking his eyes. Their deep blue color looked up at Geralt for a moment, lacking focus as Jaskier blinked. Confusion etched across his features.

“What an odd dream,” he murmured. “To wake from a dream with you only to find you in another.”

“Not a dream Jaskier.”

Jaskier laughed softly. “Certainly sounds like dream you, Darling. No matter. Come to bed and make it a good dream while it lasts.” Jaskier held up the edge of his blanket, revealing that he wore nothing beneath it. 

“Pretty shameless when you sleep,” Geralt said, squeezing Jaskier’s hand despite wanting to curl beneath the covers with him.

Jaskier blinked at him again then frowned. He looked down at Geralt’s hand around his own then up at him. He blinked again.

“You with me, Jaskier?” Geralt kept his voice soft and as gentle as possible.

“With you and seemingly flashing you the goods,” Jaskier said, though he made no move to close the blanket. He groaned slightly after a moment and rolled onto his back. “What time is it?”

“After ten. Not sure how much.” Geralt didn’t bother to check his watch or his phone. 

“Right...crap.”

“Mind telling me why you’re still in bed?” He tried to keep the concern out of his voice, but he doubted he did a good job of it. He was only just holding himself back from fussing the way he did when Ciri was sick.

Jaskier looked up at him and sighed heavily. “I might have experienced a teensy tiny drop yesterday…”

Geralt frowned. “Why didn’t you call?”

“I know. I know. Just...it was late, and I know how you feel about spending the night…”

“You knew what was happening...and you didn’t tell me.” Geralt gave Jaskier’s hand a squeeze, trying to tell him that he wasn’t angry but hurt. However, he really wanted to put that hand through a wall instead.

“I know...it was stupid of me,” Jaskier sighed. He sat up causing the covers to pool in his lap and leaving his chest bare—thick chest hair on full display. He rubbed at his eyes, shoulders hunching inward.

Geralt just watched him, not knowing what to say. It was a valid argument even if it didn’t make Geralt happy. 

“I’m okay,” Jaskier said, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders a few times. He still looked tired, and he made no move to get out of bed.

“What do you need?”

“Probably a shower. I think I got the sweats at some point. I’ve got to smell…”

Geralt nodded, keeping quiet. He gave Jaskier his hand back then leaned out of his space. 

Jaskier just sat there for a moment, rubbing his face. “It didn’t seem that bad. I’ve had plenty before. Used to just making a cup of tea and calling it an early night...I mean, sure, they aren’t always mild, but I know the difference at this point, and I know how to take care of myself…”

Geralt tried not to make a sound like a wounded animal, but he was certain he failed when Jaskier’s eyes snapped up to look at him. Geralt looked away, schooling his features. He had no right to be upset. He’d done this with his rules about keeping their distance. 

“Geralt…”

“I’ll run that bath for you,” Geralt said, continuing to keep his eyes averted.

“No, come here,” Jaskier said, making his voice firm despite how sleepy he sounded.

Geralt looked at him out of habit. 

“I fucked up, Geralt. Not you, so don’t carry this around like another weight to bear. I need a hug, and I need to feel needed, and sometimes I forget to ask for it because I think that being the perfect partner will sustain me.” 

Geralt nodded, sitting back on the edge of the bed and pulling Jaskier wordlessly into his arms. He held him tightly, helping when Jaskier tried to climb into his lap. He wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s middle, keeping him stable as Jaskier buried his face in Geralt’s neck.

“I wanted to protect you, and all I did was hurt you more,” Geralt said as he ran his palm gently up and down Jaskier’s spine.

“Don’t do this to yourself, Geralt,” Jaskier begged. He kissed along Geralt’s jaw, gripping his t-shirt as he went.

“Should’ve—”

“Geralt,  _ I _ didn’t call you.  _ I _ didn’t text. No matter how we ran our scenes, it would not matter because I didn’t reach out. That’s on me. It has nothing to do with you. I know you would have come last night. I know that despite your fears, you would have come. I know that even if you had Ciri for the night, you would have packed her into the car and either brought her to Yennefer’s or had a movie night with her here. I know that, and I still didn’t call. I told you the other day, I’m not perfect. This is it. Sometimes, I sabotage myself.” Jaskier straightened up and cupped Geralt’s face as he spoke, completely ignoring his own nudity.

“Why?”

Jaskier looked heavenward, and Geralt felt like he was asking for patience, but when he looked back down at Geralt again he looked resigned rather than annoyed. “Because I’ve been with enough people who don’t think that Doms can drop or don’t think that aftercare goes both ways, or just aren’t looking for the sort of commitment that involves following up with partners. It’s habit to see myself through it, and well, it’s a bad habit frankly.  _ But _ , I think you understand how that is.”

Geralt hummed. He did understand even if he didn’t like it. He knew he was biased, but he thought Jaskier should be cherished. 

“How about a bath together?” Geralt asked.

“I promised that you could choose our activity.”

“We can still do my activity after.”

“In that case, you should probably carry me to the tub,” Jaskier told him, batting his eyelashes.

Geralt rolled his eyes, but he managed to get to his feet without dislodging Jaskier. For his part, Jaskier wrapped his legs around Geralt’s hips and held on as Geralt moved.

“Crap, is your arm okay?” Jaskier asked when they were halfway down the hall.

“Arm’s fine. Just don’t ask for a piggy-back ride,” Geralt told him.

“Right, can’t reach back. I’ll just have to help you get those hard to reach places in the bath,” Jaskier said, giving Geralt a dazzling smile as they entered the bathroom.

Geralt closed the lid of the toilet and dropped a towel on it before depositing Jaskier on to it. 

“I can stand while—”

“I’ve got it.”

“Right, of course. I forget that you’re a father until moments like this.”

“Hm?”

“You’re very good at taking care of others. Maybe you’ve always been like that, but you’re gentle in a way that reminds me that you read your daughter poetry before bed.”

“Who told you I do that?” Geralt asked as he adjusted the temperature of the water pouring into the tub.

“Eskel. While you and Lambert were arguing about moving the couch.”

Geralt shook his head. His brothers probably thought they were helpful, but they were still brothers bent on embarrassing him first and foremost.

“I really did enjoy our scene.” Jaskier circled back.

“I never thought otherwise,” Geralt said over his shoulder as he adjusted the water temperature.

“Right, well that’s refreshing...sometimes partners think it was bad if I...that makes it sounds like it happens all the time. It doesn’t...just...sometimes.”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“But I should. We’re together...at least, I think we are. Your family seems to think so, as does your child. So surely, it makes a bit of sense that I would give an explanation as to why you found me cocooned in a mountain of blankets at ten in the morning.” 

“I already understand. I haven’t kept long term partners in years. I understand the reluctance to reach out, and I understand dealing with drop alone. I’d rather you didn’t, but that’s different than not understanding why.” Geralt lifted him back up and settled him in the tub like he was a toy rather than a full-grown man. At least, a lifetime of injuries hadn’t taken his strength yet.

Jaskier made a contemplative sound as he settled in the tub, looking up at Geralt with wide eyes. “Do you think we’ll get out of our own way one day?”

Geralt smiled, he truly doubted it if history was to be believed. “You have room in there for one more?” he asked instead.

“Might be a bit tight, but I love a good cuddle.” Jaskier’s smile was bright despite the dark circles beneath his eyes.

Geralt smirked as he tugged his henley over his head and reached for his belt.

“Slow down. Want to savor this. The HD screen is nice, but this is still better,” Jaskier insisted, resting his arms over the lip of the tub and placing his head on them.

“That an order?”

“It’s a request from a poor, sick man.” Jaskier batted his eyelashes.

Geralt huffed out the approximation of a laugh. Jaskier was the most dramatic person he’d even fallen into bed with, and he’d had a kid with  _ Yennefer _ , so that was saying something. However, he slowed down just the same. He unbuckled his belt and let it hang open along with his fly as he turned and bent to unlace his boots. He could feel Jaskier’s eyes on his ass as he wrestled his boots off, and before he could straighten up again he felt Jaskier’s fingers brush it as well.

“This isn’t a petting zoo,” Geralt grumbled though he didn’t mind Jaskier’s touch at all. He wasn’t really used to people being unafraid to touch him, even Doms. It was still novel that Jaskier had no fear of him.

“I would definitely pay extra to pet you.” Jaskier sounded delighted as he patted Geralt’s ass.

“Do you have any filter outside the bedroom?” Geralt asked, straightening up and pushing his pants down his thighs. Jaskier continued to pat his ass, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Don’t have much of one inside the bedroom either. You just haven’t seen me at my best.” Jaskier gave him a cheeky grin which was somewhat diminished by the exhaustion lining his features. 

Geralt rolled his eyes, stepping out of his jeans and standing in front of Jaskier in just his briefs. Jaskier reached out again and traced the hem of them along Geralt’s hip.

“Thought you were a boxers kind of guy...not that I’m disappointed.”

Geralt ducked his head. “Just like everything secure if I’m hiking.”

“Hiking! Is that your plan for us today?” There was light in Jaskier’s eyes that had seemed diminished before.

Geralt bit the inside of his cheek. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

“No! This is worse than not knowing anything. Now, I’m forced to imagine your brief-clad buns climbing a mountain without actually knowing if I’ll get to see it.” Jaskier splashed the water dramatically, but Geralt just hooked his fingers in his briefs and slowly lowered them.

“I can promise you that I won’t be climbing any mountains in just my underwear.”

Jaskier gripped his chest and made gasping noises. “You wound me, Geralt. How will I ever recover from this disappointment?”

“You can start by making some room,” Geralt said, stepping toward the tub.

Jaskier gave him a very lazy once over before scooting forward enough to make room for him. He kept any ridiculous comments to himself as Geralt settled in, pulling Jaskier flush against his chest.

“This is quite nice,” Jaskier sighed, resting his head on Geralt’s shoulder.

Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s belly, holding him securely but without demand for anything more. He stroked his thumb over the soft hair and padding that covered Jaskier’s middle. 

“Not as svelte as I used to be,” Jaskier muttered, poking at his own belly, which barely had more than a thin layer of padding on it.

“Who is?”

“You don’t have an ounce of fat on you.” Jaskier swatted at his thigh which bracketed Jaskier’s own.

Geralt huffed. “I’m half the speed I used to be. My joints creak from repeated injuries, and my mind is a minefield. I’m not exactly in fighting shape.” 

“You make it sound like you’re an old man.”

“Certainly feels that way when it’s going to rain.”

Jaskier laughed at the terrible joke, and he snuggled closer to Geralt. “Perhaps neither of us is fifteen anymore, but there are benefits to maturity.”

“No one said you were mature.”

“Excuse you.”

Geralt gave him a squeeze and reached for the bottle of fragrant shampoo resting on the ledge. It was surprisingly pleasant, and it didn’t bother Geralt’s nose. It shouldn’t have been that surprising as Jaskier’s scent had never bothered him, but he’d been using unscented soaps for so long, it was still a surprise to smell a scented one.

Jaskier let him douse his head and begin to wash his greasy hair. He didn’t even complain when Geralt’s fingers would snag a tangle. He hummed softly while Geralt worked the shampoo into a lather.

It was pleasant, and Geralt let himself forget about everything but Jaskier. He was concerned for him. He knew he couldn’t let himself consume the blame, but it was difficult. He couldn’t protect Jaskier from everything. If he protected Jaskier from the possibility of his own instability then he couldn’t fulfill Jaskier’s needs. It was a tightrope, and his balance wasn’t what it used to be either.

“I can feel you thinking too hard back there. Bathtime is a strictly no negative thoughts time. I didn’t make the rules,” Jaskier said, turning just enough to give Geralt a swift kiss and a smile. “Now, I think it is time for a rinse because if you lather my hair anymore, there may be no hair left, never mind grease.

Geralt grunted as he resisted the urge to simply dunk Jaskier beneath the water. Instead, he gently helped Jaskier rinse away the lather before reclining back and just holding him—another novelty he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to.

They stayed like that, having to turn on the hot water every so often to warm the bath up. Jaskier hummed quietly as he often did, and it settled something in Geralt. Like in their scenes, Jaskier’s voice was a balm, easing him into a calmer place. He hoped it did the same for Jaskier.

It was only after they’d had to warm the water for the third time that Jaskier began to shift in his arms. Geralt didn’t comment. He was honestly surprised that Jaskier had lasted this long in one position without the assistance of being asleep.

However, Geralt quickly realized it wasn’t anxiousness that had Jaskier moving. Jaskier shifted his hips just enough to grind back against Geralt. His body immediately took notice.

“Seems like someone is a bit excited,” Jaskier commented teasingly.

“Mm, I wonder why that is.” Geralt’s words were heavy with sarcasm as he shifted his own hips against Jaskier’s backside. 

“I’ve been told I have that effect on people.”

Geralt shook his head at Jaskier’s ridiculousness. He’d never been one to play along with silliness, but Jaskier made him enjoy it even if he didn’t really partake in it. He let his hands begin to wander, stroking Jaskier’s belly and side, bringing them up to tease his nipples. 

It didn’t take long to get Jaskier breathing heavily. Geralt savored the way Jaskier let him have control. Geralt didn’t always want to lead, but sometimes it was nice just to know he could.

Geralt kissed Jaskier’s neck, nibbling softly as he worked his way down. Jaskier moaned softly, tipping his head to the side in order to give Geralt better access. 

“You have condoms in here?” Geralt asked, nuzzling just behind Jaskier’s ear.

Jaskier sighed, melting into Geralt’s arms. “I’m clean,” he said, eyes closed and completely at ease.

Geralt felt his gut twist like he’d been stabbed in it. He shook his head slightly. “I can’t guarantee I am…”

“Oh, I um...thought—”

“Not for that reason. My job. I get bled on…a lot. I never know what I’ve been exposed to.” He could feel Jaskier deflate in his arms, a weighty sigh tumbling past his lips.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I  _ knew  _ that. I was on antibiotics for a week because of that. I wasn’t think—”

“Do you have condoms in here?” Geralt asked again, not wanting to kill the mood completely with talk of his job or his past.

“Boy do I. Medicine cabinet.”

Geralt eased him forward, so he could step out of the tub. When he opened the cabinet, he realized that Jaskier wasn’t joking about the amount of condoms he had. The cabinet was half filled with boxes of them. There were His Pleasure, Her Pleasure, Ribbed, Barely There, Lamb Skin, and Magnums as well as an extra large box of regular ones. Geralt reached for the regular, and Jaskier tutted.

“Darling, if you don’t think you’re a magnum, I would say your humility is bordering on lying to yourself.”

Geralt shrugged. “Growing up, we were lucky if we could get our hands on condoms at all. Always made do with regular,” Geralt said, plucking the Magnums out of the cabinet and studying the box. He really didn’t understand the fuss. Objectively, he understood that there were size differences. He’d seen enough cocks to have practical knowledge of size differences, but he’d never really thought he needed anything special. He just sort of assumed they were for men who needed to feel better about themselves rather than serving a functional purpose.

“You never broke one or had trouble with it?” Jaskier asked, eying him like he was trying to mentally measure Geralt. 

“Didn’t say that. Just said we always worked with what he had.” Geralt grabbed a bottle of lube as well before closing the cabinet.

“You and your brothers?” Jaskier asked, shifting again to make more space for Geralt as he returned.

“Yeah. Vesemir wasn’t going to go out and buy them for us, so whoever could snatch a box did then we divided them up.”

Jaskier gave him a soft smile that made Geralt wonder if he was explaining his childhood properly. He remembered putting his pennies together with Lambert and Eskel to pay for a round of antibiotics for Eskel because his girlfriend had been sleeping around on him. He remembered punching Lambert in the face when he asked Geralt to steal him a pregnancy test from the supermarket he’d been working in because his girlfriend missed her period. Condoms like money had been a necessity, but something they never had enough of.

Geralt shook off the ghosts of the past and tore open the foil. He looked down at the silly piece of latex before carefully rolling it over his erection. 

“Better?”

Geralt shrugged. “It fits.”

“Ever a man of gross exaggeration,” Jaskier said, giving Geralt a doting smile. 

Geralt climbed into the tub again and pulled Jaskier to him. He guided Jaskier to sit in his lap and immediately sought his mouth. Jaskier met him halfway and teased at his bottom lip as he got settled. 

Geralt took his time opening Jaskier up as they shared slow kisses. Nothing about this was hurried as Geralt reclined with Jaskier sprawled over his chest. He dipped two fingers into Jaskier, slowly working him open without urgency.

“If I’d known this was the treatment I’d receive, I would have been calling you complaining of low spirits every night,” Jaskier joked as Geralt withdrew his fingers.

Geralt grunted. “I have no doubt.”

Jaskier nuzzled his cheek as Geralt guided him onto his cock. They both sighed as Jaskier sank down onto him. 

Geralt bit his own lip as Jaskier gripped him like a glove. He held Jaskier steady, fingers wrapped around soft flesh careful not to grip too hard. He tipped his head back and groaned as Jaskier settled in his lap then kissed his throat. Jaskier’s lips were so soft, and they contrasted the stubble growing on his chin from a few days of neglect.

They moved in gentle rolls of their bodies, murmuring softly. Between the water and the warmth of Jaskier’s skin, Geralt felt like he was wrapped in a dream. 

Jaskier’s body was so responsive. His moans and murmurs were addicting as Geralt rocked up into him with slow thrusts. He shuddered when Geralt moved just right, and he touched Geralt almost reverently the whole time. 

Geralt let himself get lost in the moment, moving in time with Jaskier and basking in every spark of pleasure that burst between them. Their hands wandered over each other’s bodies, and their mouths found any available skin to kiss and suckle. 

He wasn’t expecting it when Jaskier suddenly gasped and shook in his arms, spilling between them before sagging against Geralt’s chest. Geralt slowed the roll of his hips, but Jaskier squeezed his arm.

“No, I’m good.”

Geralt shook his head and pulled out, not wanting to overstimulate him. Instead, he guided Jaskier to turn and sit on his lap, and Geralt guided his cock between Jaskier’s thighs. Jaskier pressed them together as Geralt rocked up into the space. It wasn’t the same, but it was enough. Geralt wasn’t really concerned about his own release, more worried that Jaskier was satisfied.

With a soft grunt, Geralt spilled into the condom and rested his forehead against Jaskier’s spine. He listened to Jaskier’s breathing even out, and pressed kisses to the nape of his neck.

“You feeling okay?” Geralt asked, keeping his voice soft, though it still sounded gruff to his ears.

“I am, in fact, feeling much better than last evening. But I think that has more to do with your presence than my orgasm.”

Geralt hummed. He was able to take it as the affirmation it was meant to be rather than an insult to his prowess. 

They rinsed off after that and made their way back to the bedroom. Geralt let himself be lured into bed by soft kisses and tired eyes. Once he was there Jaskier gave him some space until he relaxed.

“I promise I didn’t mean to derail our outing,” Jaskier said, mostly buried beneath a pile of blankets despite the heat.

“Mm.” Geralt wasn’t terribly disappointed. It gave him an excuse to break his own exile, and it had been worth it. “I was wrong.”

“What was that?”

“You heard me just fine,” Geralt grumbled.

“I know, but I would love to hear it again.”

Geralt huffed. “I can’t protect you by keeping my distance. Not from everything.” Geralt rolled, so he was facing Jaskier.

“You don’t need to protect me. I’m a grown man, even if I don’t always...or  _ ever _ , act like it. I know you see yourself as unworthy or monstrous or who even knows what, but I’m an adult, and I know my own mind and heart. You don’t need to protect me from you, and you certainly aren’t responsible for protecting me from my own mistakes.” Jaskier hooked his leg over Geralt’s hip, reeling him a little closer. 

“Mm.” Geralt let himself be cuddled.

“I know we’ve established this already, but I love you. And I’ll love you through a computer screen if that’s what it takes to make you feel safe, but I’ve never felt safer than I do in your arms. Maybe I’m naive, but that’s how I feel. And I’m sorry that it isn’t as poetic as it should be, but I had a rough night, and I’m not up to my usual standards.” 

Geralt sighed. He wasn’t good at this. He wasn’t good at declarations of love or stepping outside of his comfort zone or reassuring his lovers. So, he sighed again, rolling onto his back.

“Wow, way to leave a man hanging,” Jaskier teased, pushing right into his space without a second thought. He pulled Geralt’s hands around him and nuzzled into Geralt’s neck as he settled himself on Geralt’s chest. 

“I...feel peace in yours.” Geralt didn’t meet his eyes, instead staring at the wall behind him. Still he couldn’t hide from the slight hitch in Jaskier’s breath.

“Fuck.” Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt and squeezed him tightly, refusing to let go for a very long time. “I can work with that. I can definitely work with that.”

Geralt grunted, but he returned Jaskier’s hold. Maybe it would be enough. Maybe they could make it work.


End file.
